THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


TAHITI  DAYS 


TAHITI   DAYS 


BY 

HECTOR  MACQUARRIE 

AUTHOR  OF  "HOW  TO  LIVE  AT  THE  FRONT*', 
"OVER  HERE",  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  X2Jr   YORK 
GEORGE   H.   DORAN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,   1980 
BY  GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


College 
Library 

DO 


TO 
EVA  ELLEN  LAING 

WITHOUT  WHOM  THIS  BOOK 
COULD  NOT  HAVE  BEEN  WRITTEN 


FOREWORD 

With  an  uncertain  spot  on  one  of  my  lungs,  and 
feeling  hopeless  and  ill,  I  went  to  the  South  Seas 
jto  get  well.  I  did. 

H.  MACQ. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTEB  PAQI 

I  THE  CARPET 15 

II  THE  PALOONA 19 

III  RARATONGA  .         .         .  .         .31 

IV  BABIES 43 

V  THE  MOANA" 50 

VI  TAHITI 56 

VII  MOVIES  IN  THE  SOUTH  SEAS      ...  74 

VIII  OFF  TO  THE  PAUMOTUS      ....  82 

IX  THE  HULA-HULA 86 

X  BOARDING  THE  TEREORA     .,  100 

XI  CAPTAIN  JOE 106 

XII  THE  SCHOONER  ......  113 

XIII  OUTSIDE   THE   REEF 125 

XIV  OVER  THE  REEF 136 

XV  HlKUERO,    THE    PEARL    ISLAND     .             .             .  146 

XVI  PEARL  DIVING      .         .         ...         .166 

XVII  BREAKFAST  ON  HIKUERO     ....  177 

XVIII  FAGATUA 186 

XIX  THE  MARAI  AND  MIGGIMIGGI     .         .         .  206 

XX  WAITING  FOR  THE  NOEL     ....  211 

ix 


x  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  FAOB 

XXI  THE  TEARIA .234 

XXII  FIRE-WALKING  ON  TAHITI  ....     245 

XXIII  THE  EPIDEMIC 251 

XXIV  THE  SALVOR  259 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

YOU'RE  NO  LONGER  ONE  OF  Six  MILLION;  YOU'RE 

THE  WHITE  MAN — THE  WHITE  MAN 

Frontispiece 

MM 

AUCKLAND  HARBOUR — THE  WAITEMATA  ...  24 

SYDNEY  HARBOUR  FROM  GOVERNMENT  HOUSE  .  24 

THE  LANDING  PLACE  AT  RARATONGA  ...  28 

RARATONGA 28 

ON  BOARD  THE  WRECKED  M  AITAI  ....  28 

UNGENE'S  DAUGHTER 28 

THE  SHY  HINEMOA 29 

THE  LONDON  MISSIONARY  SOCIETY  CHURCH  AT 

RARATONGA 29 

A  RARATONGAN  WOMAN  IN  NATIVE  DRESS  OF 

BEATEN  HYBISCUS  BARK 29 

A  RARATONGAN  MAORI 44 

A  RARATONGAN  IN  FESTIVE  ATTIRE  ....  44 
THE  AVENUE  WHICH  ENCIRCLES  THE  ISLAND  OF 

RARATONGA 45 

THE  R.  M.  S.  MOANA  IN  THE  LAGOON  AT  PAPEETE  60 

THE  BEACH  AT  PAPEETE  .        .      .  .        .         .        .  60 

THE  QUARANTINE  STATION  INSIDE  THE  LAGOON  AT 

PAPEETE 60 

xi 


xii  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PACK 

TANE  AND  His  WIFE  FISHING  IN  THE  LAGOON  NEAE 

PAPEETE 60 

MY  LITTLE  HOUSE  ON  THE  BEACH  AT  TAUNOA         .  61 

WONG,  THE  ROGUE — MY  CHINESE  SERVANT     .        .  61 

THE  COMMUNITY  WASH-HOUSE  IN  PAPEETE     .        .  61 

A  FARE,  NATIVE  HOUSE 61 

A  TAHITIAN  BABY       .       „•       .......  76 

HOTOTU 76 

MADAME,  LA  PRINCESS  MATAUEEA     ....  76 

THE  TIARE  TAHITI 76 

THE  LAGOON  AT  PAPEETE,  WITH  THE  QUARANTINE 

ISLAND  IN  THE  BACKGROUND     ....  77 

TAHITIAN  GIRLS  IN  A  FISHING  CANOE     ...  77 

TINA  RETURNING  FROM  HER  DIP  IN  THE  LAGOON     .  77 

MANU 92 

TI-TI,  MY  LANDLADY 92 

THE  LAGOON  THIRTY  MILES  FROM  PAPEETE  .        .  92 

THE  SOURCE  OF  THE  VAITUORU         ....  92 

MAOU 93 

TENUAHA — ARTHUR  ESTALL  FILB     .... 

A  GROUP  OF  TAHITIANS 

ON  THE  REEF  AT  HAAPAAPE      .... 
THE  LEPER  STATION  ON  TAHITI         .... 
A  TAHITIAN  MAIDEN  WITH  A  HEADRESS  OF  TIARE 

TAHITI  108 


ILLUSTRATIONS  xiii 

PACK 

FARE   HTMENB  AT  HAAPIPI 108 

THE  MOUTH  OF  THE  STREAM  AT  FATAUA  .        .       ..  108 

THE  TEREORA."         t..       .....       >.  109 

MARFA          .        .       i.,       .....       ..,       .  109 

GLORIANA     . 109 

ON  BOAED  THE  TEREORA.  IN  MID-OCEAN  .        .        .109 
THE    TYPE   OF   NATIVE   WHO    ACCOMPANIED    ME 

ASHORE  ON  HARAIKI 140 

CLIMBING  A  COCOANUT  TREE 140 

A  POLYNESIAN  BOY  OF  FOURTEEN     ....  141 

RUTU  AND  MYSELF  ASHORE  ON  PARAKI     .        .        .  141 

A  POLYNESIAN  BOY  OF  NINETEEN  YEARS  .         .        .  141 
A  PORTION  OF  THE  NURSERY  OF  GOLDEN  BROWN 
BOYS    AND    GIRLS    WHO    WELCOMED    ME    ON 

HIKUERO 141 

ONE  OF  THE  LANDING  PLACES  AT  HIKUERO       .        .  141 

MAKING  COPRA 156 

FISHERMEN  RETURNING 156 

THE  VILLAGE  ON  HIKUERO         .        .        .        .       L.:  156 

A  NATIVE  OF  FAGATAU 157 

A  TYPE  OF  POLYNESIAN  DIVER  .        .        .        .       &  157 

TENUAHA  ON  THE  VERANDAH  AT  FAGATAU       .        .:  157 

AN  OCTAPUS  IMPALED  ON  A  SPEAR  .        .        .       (.:  157 

TEAEA  A  MIHIMANA  BRINGING  IN  FEII        .        .        w  204 


xiv  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

PREPARING  BAMBOO  FOE  HAT  MAKING     .        .        .  204 

OK  THE  ROAD  TO  PAPENOO 204 

THE   BEACH 205 

A  MAN  FROM  TIAEEI 205 

A  TAHITIAN  FAMILY  PEEPAEING  TO  EAT  BEEADFRUIT  220 

THE  PEAKS  OF  TAHITI 220 

A  GEOUP  OF  TAHITIAN  NATIVES         ....  220 

PAPAEA,  TAHITI 220 

THE  RIVEE  PUNABUU,  TAHITI 221 

A  TAHITIAN  HILL  CASTLE 221 

BAY  OF  OPUNOHOU 221 

IN  THE  LAGOON  AT  FAGATATT 221 

THE  FIRE-WALKEES  OF  PIEAE 248 

THE    CHIEF   OF   THE   PEIESTLY    PAETY    OF    FIRE- 

WALKEES 248 

THE  PROCESSION  ENTEEING  THE  TRENCH  OF  HOT 

STONES 248 

HALFWAY  ACROSS  THE  TEENCH         ....  248 
THE  END  OF  THE  CEEEMONY  PROPER — BEFORE  THE 

CROWD  WEEE  ALLOWED  TO  WALK   .         .         .  248 

OUE  HOSPITAL  STAFF  AND  AMBULANCE  .         .        .  249 
THE  AVENUE  LEADING  TO  THE  RESIDENCE  OF  THE 

FEENCH  GOVEENOE  OF  THE  SOCIETY  ISLANDS  .  249 

CROSSING  TEAVAVA,  MOOREA 249 


TAHITI  DAYS 


TAHITI   DAYS 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  CARPET 

COME  step  onto  my  carpet! 

We're  going  to  the  South  Seas,  to  the  islands 
you've  read  about,  sitting  before  the  fire  at  night 
time,  when  the  rain,  beating  on  the  window  panes, 
and  the  sound  of  the  wind,  shrieking  through  the 
trees  in  the  garden,  have  not  prevented  your  mind 
from  wandering  to  some  "  Island  of  Tranquil 
Delight,"  where  in  fancy  you've  lain  'neath  the 
shade  of  a  breadfruit  tree,  dozing  to  the  soft 
chatter  of  natives.  Or  on  the  deck  of  some  snowy- 
white  schooner,  lying  at  full  length  on  the  counter, 
a  fair  trade  wind  has  driven  you  over  a  tropical 
sea  to  the  palm-clad  island  on  the  horizon,  where 
a  warm  welcome  awaits  you  from  the  gentle  Poly- 
nesians. 

You're  no  longer  one  of  six  million;  you're 
the  white  man — the  white  man. 

Yes,  you'll  come  with  me;  I  know  it,  especially 
if  you're  a  poor  fellow  condemned  to  spend  your 
lifetime  in  a  great  city — to  work,  to  eat,  to  sleep, 

15 


16  TAHITI  DAYS 

and  then  to  work  again.  How  I'd  love  to  take 
you  with  me  in  reality  across  the  Atlantic  in 
the  Olympic  or  the  Mauretarda,  in  a  Pullman 
from  New  York  to  San  Francisco,  where  we'd 
catch  the  old  Moana  or  the  Paloona  for  Tahiti — 
a  gateway  to  the  isles  of  the  South. 

But  I  cannot;  you  cannot  spare  the  time;  there's 
the  wife  and  kiddies,  your  old  age  and  their  fu- 
ture, and  the  semi-detached  house  at  Baling  or 
Wimbledon.  It  can  be  only  a  dream.  But  let's 
pretend;  let's  make  the  dream  as  real  as  possible. 
But  don't  forget  that  the  fairy  land  of  the  South 
Seas,  as  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  is  likened  unto 
a  little  child. 

So  step  onto  my  carpet!  It  isn't  a  magic 
carpet,  really.  But  it's  woven  with  the  threads 
of  sheer  delight,  manufactured  with  inexpert  crafts- 
manship, but  held  up  with  the  bands  of  love — 
love  for  you,  my  fellow  traveller. 

We'll  not  worry  about  geography,  ethnology, 
nor  geology — hard  words — but  we'll  be  distress- 
ingly casual  and  very  lazy. 

And  you  won't  look  at  the  carpet  with  the  eyes 
of  criticism — it  is  strong,  you're  quite  safe — but, 
tempering  your  criticism  with  gentleness,  you'll 
look  through  these  eyes  of  mine  at  the  things  that 
I  have  seen  and  loved. 

We  won't  see  the  defects  of  our  hosts,  the 
natives;  we  won't  notice  that  some  of  the  women 
have  "  loins  to  bear  a  world  "  or  that  sometimes 


THE  CARPET  17 

their  arms  are  like  "  legs  of  mutton "  and  that 
their  breasts  are  "  like  large  cabbages."  No,  we'll 
be  very  polite,  like  our  hosts,  and  see  only  the 
charming  things. 

Then  I'll  pluck  oranges  from  the  trees  near 
the  wayside;  I'll  send  a  few  dark-skinned  little 
boys  running  up  cocoanut  palms  to  get  cocoanuts 
for  you  to  drink,  poppihare;  I'll  give  you  flowers 
to  place  in  your  hair,  for  such  is  the  fashion;  I'll 
place  beads  around  your  neck,  red  ones  and  yel- 
low; and  if  you  want  bananas,  not  the  cold  hard 
sort  you  have  always  eaten,  but  soft,  delicious 
bananas,  creamy  and  white,  you  shall  have  them; 
and  if  you  feel  like  a  lime  drink,  for  the  climate 
is  warm,  if  you'd  like  to  make  your  face  all  sticky 
with  a  mango,  and  if  you'd  really  like  to  try 
some  breadfruit  fresh  from  the  earthen  oven, 
just  say  the  word  and  they're  yours. 

I'm  going  to  take  you  for  a  trip  on  a  schooner 
—you'll  be  dreadfully  seasick — but  we'll  see  na- 
tives diving  for  pearls,  and  other  unusual  things, 
and  when  you  return  to  the  office  tomorrow  you'll 
forget  the  seasickness. 

So  step  onto  my  carpet!  That's  right!  Now 
we're  off. 

We  are  in  New  Zealand,  waiting  for  the  old 
Paloona  to  get  her  cargo  on  board.  There's  been 
a  strike  in  Wellington,  the  seaport  from  which 
we  must  start  for  the  Cook  Islands,  and  the  old 
ship  has  been  delayed. 


18  TAHITI  DAYS 

We're  going  to  try  Raratonga  first;  if  we  get 
bored  we'll  move  off  to  some  other  island.  We've 
got  at  least  six  months  at  our  disposal,  and  if 
we  don't  feel  absolutely  fit  at  the  end  of  six 
months  we  may  have  to  stay  longer. 

Now  for  the  Paloona. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  PALOONA 

ABOUT  thirty  years  ago  the  Paloona  was  a  smart 
ship  trading  between  Wellington  and  Melbourne. 
In  those  days  people  actually  desired  to  travel 
on  her;  she  was  fast;  she  was  a  steady  sea  boat; 
her  passenger  accommodation  was  marked  by  a 
certain  luxury  and  some  beauty;  she  was  new, 
and  consequently  free  from  cockroaches;  and, 
above  all,  in  those  days  she  was  considered  large. 

When  I  fell  with  a  sickening  thud  on  to  her — 
I  had  meant  to  walk  on  board  in  a  dignified  man- 
ner, but  the  gangplank  slipped,  or  did  something 
peculiar — I  decided  then  and  there  that  she  was 
an  exceedingly  old  and  very  dirty  ship.  Even 
after  a  nine  days'  journey,  during  which  time  I 
made  several  good  friends,  my  original  impression 
remained.  It  still  remains;  so  does  the  scent  of 
the  Paloona  s  past  history,  with  which  she  was 
permeated  from  stem  to  stern. 

Actually,  the  Paloona  is  a  steamer  of  about 
fifteen  hundred  tons.  The  lines  of  her  hull  are 
pretty,  but  the  arrangement  of  her  funnel  and 
masts  is  not  good.  They  don't  scan — like  bad 
lines  in  a  verse — for  the  funnel  is  too  big,  and 

19 


20  TAHITI  DAYS 

the  masts  are  small.  The  war  gave  her  a  fresh 
lease  of  life,  otherwise  her  cabins  would  have  been 
torn  out,  her  portholes  blocked,  and  the  old  ship 
condemned  to  carrying  coal  from  Westport  to 
Wellington.  There  is  something  fine  and  mag- 
nificent in  your  typical  cargo  carrier,  and  even 
the  collier  may  wear  an  air  of  prosperous  effi- 
ciency, but  the  transformed  passenger  steamer 
merely  moves  one  to  pity.  There's  an  impres- 
sion of  age,  of  blindness — of  senility. 

While  travelling  on  a  modern  liner  has  many 
advantages,  there  is  something  to  be  said  for  sail- 
ing on  a  poor  ship.  Travel  in  a  poor  ship  and 
you  will  generally  travel  alone.  You  will  get 
to  know  the  captain,  the  ship's  officers,  the  engi- 
neers, and  you  may  even  attain  a  working  friend- 
ship with  the  purser.  Choose  the  largest  ship  on 
the  line,  whose  great  funnels  fairly  belch  forth 
smoke  and  importance,  but  say  good-bye  to  peace 
and  quietness. 

It  is  two-thirty;  you're  enjoying  a  short  snooze 
before  tea  time;  there's  nothing  to  worry  about, 
no  telegrams  nor  letters;  but  what  is  that  noise 
that  disturbs  your  dreams?  It's  a  voice,  perhaps 
female,  but  it  sounds  raucous.  "  Is  this  your 
cabin,  Mr.  Jones  ?  "  it  says.  You  curse,  let  us 
hope,  under  your  breath,  and  murmur  kindly, 
"  Oh,  yes,  Miss  Travers,  this  is — er — my  cabin." 
"  I  hate  to  disturb  you,  but  it's  your  turn  to  play 
off  the  deck  billiards;  the  others  are  waiting." 


THE  PALOONA  21 

She  disappears  and  returns  to  three  impatient 
young  enthusiasts  on  deck,  as  you  imagine.  Then 
you  fling  yourself  out  of  your  berth,  brush  your 
hair  a  little,  noting  the  pallor  of  your  otherwise 
healthy  face,  you  damn  more  than  once,  and  then, 
running  along  the  alleyway,  you  mount  the  stairs 
and  find  Miss  Travers  talking  to  a  fat  gentleman 
in  flannels.  The  other  lady  is  coming  soon,  and 
after  a  time  she  does  come,  and  off  you  go  with 
the  deck  billiards. 

There  are  always  certain  leaders  of  men  on 
big  liners  in  the  Pacific.  They  run  the  sports 
committee;  they  manage  the  concert,  invariably 
leaving  out  some  keen  amateur  artiste;  they  grow 
unpopular,  and  hit  back;  and  on  the  whole  they 
are  excellent  people,  but,  frankly,  a  nuisance. 

Travelling  on  the  Pacific  is  peculiar.  It's  all 
right  from  Vancouver  to  Honolulu,  all  goes 
cheerily  from  Honolulu  to  Fiji,  but  after  Fiji, 
look  out.  Your  liver  is  quite  normal  from  Van- 
couver to  Honolulu,  it  sleeps  quietly  in  the  warm 
sunshine  from  Honolulu  to  Fiji,  but  it  wakes  up 
with  a  sudden  start  in  the  cool  waters  of  the  Tas- 
man  Sea.  Then  things  begin  to  happen.  Miss 
Travers  learns  to  hate  Miss  Jones,  friends  of 
each  party  join  in,  and  there  is  sometimes  much 
unpleasantness  which  reaches  a  climax  when  Mrs. 
Burlington-Riser  asks  all  the  handsome  young  men 
on  the  ship  to  dine  at  her  table,  and,  after  giving 
them  cocktails,  has  a  merry  evening. 


22  TAHITI  DAYS 

And  you  will  surely  call  a  New  Zealander  an 
Australian  and  he  may  become  forcible  and  explain 
with  a  highly  unnecessary  amount  of  warmth  that 
he  is  not.  The  Australian  will  tell  you  about  "  our 
harbour  "  and  you  won't  want  to  see  it.  You  will 
feel  that  God  had  little  to  do  with  its  manufacture, 
but  rather  that  your  Australian  friend  made  it 
himself.  Still  it  is  well  to  add  here,  that,  if  good 
fortune  ever  takes  you  to  Sydney  Harbour,  you 
will  realize  that  your  Australian  friend  has  done 
justice  neither  to  himself  nor  Port  Jackson.  He 
has  preserved  it  with  loving  care,  refusing  to  allow 
commercial  utility  to  ruin  a  single  charming  cove. 
His  houses  on  the  water  front  are  like  patches  on 
the  face  of  a  beautiful  woman;  they  point  out 
beauty;  they  seldom  mar  it.  And  no  one  can 
describe  Sydney  Harbour  adequately — the  bluest 
of  water,  filling  the  daintiest  little  inlets  fringed 
with  the  greenest  of  semi-tropical  foliage,  and 
above  all  the  great  cliffs  of  pink  limestone  which 
rise  up  behind  the  harbour.  And  even  though  I'm 
a  New  Zealander,  and  regard  the  Waitemata 
Harbour  at  Auckland  as  possessing  even  more 
possibilities  of  loveliness,  if  the  Aucklanders 
thought  more  of  beauty  than  they  do  of  commerce, 
I  must  salute  Port  Jackson — the  most  beautiful 
harbour  in  the  world — at  present.  The  last  two 
words  are  meant  as  a  hint  to  my  own  city  of 
Auckland. 

But  to   return   to    the   Paloona,   upon   whose 


THE  PALOONA  23 

worn  and  soiled  decks  I  paraded  day  after  day 
until  we  reached  Raratonga.  There  were  few 
passengers,  and  these  were  good  fellows.  There 
were  no  women  on  board! 

After  a  rough  day  off  the  New  Zealand  coast 
we  came  into  quiet  waters  and  it  was  possible  to 
study  the  passengers,  the  officers,  and  the  engineers 
who  dined  in  the  saloon. 

The  captain  had  found  by  experience  that  the 
people  who  usually  travelled  on  the  Paloona  were 
inferior.  Perhaps  it  was  this  that  prompted 
him  to  have  the  two  places  on  each  side  of 
him  vacant.  At  any  rate  one  had  to  talk 
to  him  across  an  arid  waste  of  white  table 
cloth. 

As  the  journey  progressed  his  chin  grew  darker 
and  darker  until  he  developed  an  excellent  beard. 
There  can  be  no  objection  to  a  man  having  a  beard,, 
but  there  is  nevertheless  something  unfitting,  pro- 
fane and  irreligious  about  its  slow  exuberance. 
This  captain,  like  many  another  on  the  Pacific, 
writes;  and  it  is  well  to  warn  you  about  this.  If 
one  of  them  asks  you  to  his  cabin  to  play  chess, 
don't  be  deceived.  He'll  read  you  his  manuscript, 
which  may  be  quite  good,  or  it  may  not;  it  will 
certainly  be  mixed;  and  you  will  be  forced  to  lie. 
There  are  some  fine  merchant  marine  commanders 
in  the  Pacific,  but  it  is  difficult  for  them  to  keep  a 
good  perspective  of  men  and  things.  For  they 
consort  with  the  great,  and  only  the  great  satisfy 


24  TAHITI  DAYS 

them.  Hence  there  is  some  snobbishness  in  their 
point  of  view. 

Like  the  mace  to  a  Lord  Mayor,  so  is  a  captain 
to  a  white  linen  fronted  profiteer  as  he  walks 
pompously  into  the  dining  saloon,  taking  his  place 
on  the  right  hand  side  of  the  captain.  "  Fine  run 
today,  captain,"  he  says. 

There  are  big  moments  in  the  lives  of  some 
people,  and  big  cheques  in  the  pockets  of  chief 
stewards,  but  never  quite  so  big  as  they  expect. 

Mr.  French  sat  on  my  left.  Heaven  only  knows 
where  he  came  from;  but  the  devil  will  soon  be 
hard  at  work  preparing  an  oven  for  him  if  he  isn't 
more  careful.  A  circular  saw  in  a  timber  mill 
removed  very  quickly  the  half  of  one  of  his  fingers, 
and  so  mutilated  the  muscles  actuating  one  of  the 
others  that  it  is  compelled  always  to  point.  This, 
a  low  person  remarked,  was  the  only  straight  part 
of  him.  Mr.  French  winters  at  Raratonga,  but 
on  the  whole  prefers  the  Tongan  girls.  He  is 
nearly  seventy,  but  he  delights  in  telling  young 
men  about  all  the  sensual  things  he  knows  of  in  the 
Islands.  Poor  old  fellow;  he  was  trying  to  re-live 
his  own  life  again. 

Then  there  was  Mr.  Renton.  Mr.  Renton  comes 
from  Melbourne  and  can  talk  with  some  brilliance 
upon  almost  any  subject;  but  high  finance  is  his 
particular  joy.  Still,  when  he  chatted  about  New 
Guinea  and  the  Straits  Settlements,  one  sat  and 
listened  while  the  hours  went  by  very  quickly. 


AUCKLAND   HARBOUR THE   WAITEMATA 

The  dim  outline  of  land  in  the  distance  Is  Rangitoto,  a  comparatively  recent, 
though  now  extinct  volcanic  island.  From  a  spot  near  the  garden  in  the  fore- 
ground I  watched  the  American  fleet  on  its  world-encircling  tour,  before  the 
great  War,  slowly  steam  round  the  head  in  the  middle  distance.  You,  per- 
haps, can  imagine  the  wonder  of  the  scene.  Few  of  us  watching,  dreamt 
that  the  mighty  ships  would  outlive  the  beautiful  point,  jutting  into  the 
harbour,  upon  which  w«  stood.  Yet,  it  is  rumoured,  this  park-like  point, 
called  Campbell's  Point,  is  now  already  being  removed,  in  order  that  a  hide- 
ous railway  line  may  have  more  convenient  exit  from  the  city! 


SYDNEY   HARBOUR   FROM   GOVERNMENT   HOUSE 

After  seven  days  of  storm  and  wind  In  the  Tasman  Sea;  after  seven  days 
of  enforced  communion  with  two  fat,  elderly  and  weak  sea-legged  gentle- 
men who  shared  my  cabin,  I  looked  through  a  tiny  port  hole,  and  I  saw 
Sydney  Harbour.  Having  seen,  Its  beauty  Is  now  a  possession — a  vision  of 
rich  green  and  blue,  veiled  In  softest  pink.  I  sigh  for  a  better  photograph, 
but  no  camera  can  do  better  than  insult  the  gorgeous  beauty  of  Port 
Jackson. 


THE  PALOONA  25 

Still  I  wondered  why  he  disguised,  under  a  futile 
form  of  undeceptive  bombast,  the  nature  that  God 
and  a  good  mother  had  given  him.  He  was  apt 
to  say  occasionally  that  Australia  would  be  there. 
"  Australia  will  be  there  "  often  ends  the  highly 
patriotic  verses  sung  in  the  Pantomimes  in  Aus- 
tralia. It  is  often  heard,  it  is  always  felt,  and  we 
in  New  Zealand  wonder  unkindly  what  it  means. 
But  we  decide  that  at  some  great  climax  of  a 
successful  nature,  some  great  crisis,  amongst  the 
important  persons  present  Australia  will  be  well 
represented. 

And  seriously,  she  will  "  be  there,"  for  she  is  a 
wonderful,  and  in  parts  a  beautiful,  country,  which 
is  surely  producing  a  nation  that  the  future  will 
have  to  take  into  account.  For  the  Australian  is 
a  generous  hearted  man,  young  and  sensitive  it  is 
true,  but  always  lovable  to  those  who  understand 
him. 

We  will  not  discuss  Mr.  Renton  any  further 
except  by  saying  that  it  was  very  easy  to  like  him 
for  he  was  an  excellent  fellow  and  a  sociable  liar. 

On  Mr.  Renton's  right  sat  an  American  boy 
who  was  strangely  silent.  He  seldom  uttered  a 
word,  but  willingly  passed  nuts  and  other  food 
when  required  to  do  so  by  the  pressing  needs  of 
others. 

Then  there  was  Mr.  Welch.  Mr.  Welch  is  a 
small,  slightly  built,  good  looking  young  New 
Zealander  with  a  mole  or  beauty  spot  on  his  face. 


26  TAHITI  DAYS 

He  is  very  broad  minded,  and  used  to  be  the 
purser  on  the  Paloona,  when  he  had  many  ro- 
mances, which  he  divulged  shamelessly.  He  has 
now  beaten  a  strategic  retreat  into  commerce,  be- 
ing on  his  way  to  collect  agencies.  He  will  succeed 
in  America,  because  he  is  a  nice  boy;  he  likes  the 
Americans,  and  will  possibly  advertise  this ;  and  he 
will  return  to  New  Zealand  a  little  wiser,  not  so 
nice,  and  I  suspect  he  will  become  rich.  He  often 
talks  about  a  person  called  his  "pater"  which  is, 
I  understand,  the  Latin  for  father.  "  Pater  "  is 
a  man  of  means.  I  gathered  that  his  mother  is 
a  large  woman.  She's  none  the  worse  for  this. 

Then  at  the  very  foot  of  the  table,  far  from  the 
captain,  though  not  from  choice,  sits  the  fireman, 
and  one  is  confronted  by  the  extraordinary  spec- 
tacle of  a  fireman  sitting  at  the  same  table  with 
the  captain  in  the  Union  Steamship  Company. 
"  Shades  of  Trotsky  and  Lenine,"  you  will  shout, 
"  How  can  this  be! "  It  is  peculiar,  but  there  is 
an  explanation. 

At  this  time,  towards  the  end  of  the  war,  fire- 
men were  scarce  on  the  Pacific  Coast  of  America, 
and  a  cargo  ship  of  the  Union  Steamship  Com- 
pany was  held  up  in  San  Francisco  through  the 
unwillingness  of  any  American  to  take  on  the 
job.  However,  upon  condition  that  he  received  a 
first-class  passage  back  to  America,  this  fellow,  a 
Pennsylvania  Dutchman,  incidentally,  volunteered. 
And  so  our  fireman.  He  was  a  huge,  magnifi- 


THE  PALOONA  27 

* 

cently  built  fellow,  and  it  never  occurred  to  him 
for  a  moment  that  his  conversation,  in  broad  Penn- 
sylvanian  Dutch-English,  hurled  from  one  end  of 
the  table  into  the  unwilling  ears  of  the  captain, 
annoyed  and  distressed  that  gentleman.  It  did, 
however,  for  the  captain's  head,  as  he  bent  over 
his  plate,  denoted  detachment.  The  last  I  heard 
of  the  fireman,  and  this  describes  him  well,  was 
that  the  American  naval  inspector  boarding  the 
Paloona  asked  him  if  he  were  a  German,  and  woke 
up  two  days  afterwards,  seeing  stars,  and  badly 
wounded  between  the  eyes.  If  untactfulness 
were  always  rewarded  in  this  manner,  port  au- 
thorities and  their  satellites  would  be  a  polite  race 
of  persons.  I  heard  later  that  the  fireman  had 
been  cast  into  gaol  by  civilian  authority,  and  that 
after  the  honour  of  the  civic  authorities  had  been 
satisfied,  the  navy  sought  his  blood.  And  I  know 
that  he  did  not  care.  He  enjoyed  a  crisis,  and 
was  quite  willing  to  take  what  was  coming  to 
him. 

All  the  officers  were  decent  fellows,  but  Joe,  the 
chief  mate,  was  the  finest.  He  played  bridge 
shockingly,  with  a  recklessness  that  has  destroyed 
the  fortunes  of  many  another  man.  But  since 
we  were  merely  playing  for  drinks,  Joe  generally 
succeeded  in  guessing  what  the  hand  of  his  partner 
contained.  He  must  have  liked  the  colour  of 
hearts  for  he  went  two  hearts  without  internal 
evidence  to  assist  him.  In  big  moments  he  dashed 


28  TAHITI  DAYS 

into  two  no  trumps,  flung  away  a  few  tricks,  but 
sometimes  won. 

But  Joe  smelt  of  the  sea,  not  your  civilized 
sea  which  merely  lifts  the  haughty  tail  of  a  liner 
and  then  passes  by  conquered  and  beaten,  but  the 
sea  which  rises  and  fights  the  old  wind  jammer,  or 
"  wind  bag  "  as  Joe  called  her — the  mighty  sea, 
the  wonder  of  the  deep,  that  men  fear  when  they 
"  go  down  to  the  sea  in  ships,"  the  sea  that  makes 
men  "  reel  to  and  fro  and  stagger  like  a  drunken 
man "  that  causes  them  to  long  for  the  haven, 
"  where  they  would  be,"  the  sea  that  makes  men 
rough,  but  gentle. 

"  I'll  go  two  '  haarts  '  "  he  would  say  confidently 
while  his  opponents  took  courage  and  his  partner 
feared  greatly. 

The  chief  engineer — a  decent,  quiet  man — used 
to  sit  and  chat,  but,  in  newspaper  parlance,  he 
never  succeeded  in  "  putting  his  information 
across."  Still  his  voice  was  soothing. 

That  chief  had  no  tact.  Let  me  tell  you  a  story 
that  happened  months  afterwards.  I  was  in 
Papeete  when  the  Paloona,  after  a  stormy  voyage, 
put  into  port.  The  engineers  had  had  a  trying 
time  with  useless,  inefficient  firemen  and  the  third, 
a  great  strong  youth  from  Westport,  had  found  it 
difficult  not  to  kill  a  few  of  them.  He  had  been 
compelled  to  do  some  firing  himself,  and  when  the 
ship  finally  got  into  Papeete  he  became  roaring 
drunk.  He  was  not  the  sort  of  young  man  who 


THE  LANDING   PLACE  AT  RARATONGA 

The  thin  line  of  surf  In  the  middle  distance  marks  the  reef.  The  shallow 
water  in  the  foreground  is  the  reef  shelf.  On  many  islands  water  in  this 
relation  to  the  shore  is  deep,  forming  a  commodious  harbour.  The  steamer 
on  the  right  is  the  "Moana,"  that  on  the  left  the  wrecked  "Maitai". 


RARATONGA 

The  white  houses  mark  the  outskirts  of  the  main  village  of  Awarua.  The 
photograph  is  taken  from  the  leaning  decks  over  the  rail  of  the  wrecked 
"Maitai."  The  rock-like  object  upon  which  the  surf  is  breaking  is  the  bow  of 
a  great  steel  barque  which  came  ashore  some  years  ago. 


By    Courtesy    of   the   American   Museum 
of  Natural   History,   New   York 


A   RARATONGA.N   WOMAN   IN    NATIVE   DRESS  OF  BEATEN    HIBISCUS   BARK 

This  woman,  in  spite  of  her  heavy  lips  and  flattened  nose,  should  give  a 
fair  Impression  of  the  kindness  and  benignity  of  the  Raratongan  native.  If 
you  were  to  step  ashore  at  Raratonga,  and  if  your  appearance  pleased  her, 
she  would  promptly  remove  the  coronet  of  tiny  shells  from  her  head,  the 
beads  would  come  clattering  from  around  her  neck,  and  with  the  gentlest 
smile  In  the  world  she  would  give  them  to  you.  If  you  were  to  express 
admiration  for  her  robe  of  hibiscus,  she  would  promptly  run  Into  the  near- 
est house  and  returning  arrayed  in  the  conventional  "mother  hubbard,"  she 
would  also  offer  you  the  hibiscus  robe. 


THE  PALOONA  29 

could  get  drunk  gracefully;  alcohol,  villainous  rum 
for  the  most  part  in  Papeete,  turned  him  into  a 
wild  beast. 

I  was  sitting  quietly  in  the  room  of  the  Chief 
when  this  tornado  of  angry  emotions  entered  the 
little  room.  He  loved  the  chief  and  consequently 
confided  his  firm  intention  of  challenging  the  whole 
crew  of  firemen  to  mortal  combat.  "  I'll  fight  the 
whole  bloody  lot,"  he  said,  "  yes,  the  whole  bloody 
lot."  I  felt  convinced  that  several  people  would 
be  in  hospital  that  night  if  they  were  not  laid  out 
in  the  local  morgue,  so  I  determined  to  remain 
silent  and  inconspicuous. 

The  chief  reasoned  with  him,  and  the  second,  a 
good  fellow  whom  all  loved  and  respected,  tried  to 
effect  a  compromise.  Mad  drunk  men  hate  com- 
promise. It  is  neck  or  nothing  with  them.  Hell- 
fire,  smoke,  killing,  murder-destruction  alone  satis- 
fies them.  Things  looked  bad  when  suddenly  the 
chief  thought  of  me.  "  Here's  a  fellow  who  has 
been  fighting  the  Germans;  aren't  you  ashamed  to 
behave  like  this  in  front  of  him?  "  I  looked  mildly 
at  the  young  man. 

"  Would  he  like  to  fight  me? "  he  exclaimed 
with  the  joy  of  battle  in  his  eyes. 

I  said  never  a  word. 

"  Let  me  look  at  his  face,"  he  said,  and  coming 
over  to  my  corner  he  gently  drew  my  face  under 
the  light  while  I  smiled  stupidly.  "  Fair  dinkum  * 

*  Fair  dinkum — an  Australasian  colloquialism  for  honest. 


30  TAHITI  DAYS 

eyes,"  he  remarked  decidedly  "  but,  my  Gawd, 
what  a  mouth!  "  The  crisis  passed,  the  young  man 
left  the  room,  went  out  into  the  town,  half  killed 
an  innocent  Chinaman,  kissed  a  native  girl,  and 
then  fell  into  the  arms  of  five  gendarmes  who 
placed  him  in  gaol,  much  to  the  regret  of  the 
native  girl. 

And  so  the  days  passed,  pleasant  lazy  days,  so 
that  it  was  with  some  regret  that  we  saw  a  cone- 
like  mountain  rising  out  of  the  sea  in  the  distance. 
It  was  Raratonga,  and  packing  my  bags  I  felt 
a  little  miserable  at  leaving  my  friends.  For  the 
only  moss  a  rolling  stone  manages  to  gather  he 
treasures — human  friendship,  of  which  there  is 
more  in  the  world  than  most  people  suspect. 


CHAPTER  III 

RARATONGA 

To  SIGHT  an  island  on  the  horizon  and  to  arrive 
sufficiently  close  to  the  reef  to  land  are  two  very 
different  things.  It  all  depends  upon  the  height 
of  the  island,  and  the  degree  of  visibility  obtain- 
ing. 

We  sighted  Raratonga  at  noon,  but  it  was  not 
until  sunset  that  we  came  to  anchor  on  the  edge 
of  the  fringing  reef.  Indeed  we  were  fortunate 
in  being  able  to  land  that  night,  for  the  captain 
was  as  doubtful  about  landing  as  the  purser, 
the  chief  steward  and  the  chief  mate  were  con- 
vinced that  he  was  much  too  careful,  and,  indeed, 
rather  an  old  woman.  It  was  easy  to  understand 
the  captain's  doubts,  for  it  is  a  risky  operation  to 
anchor  a  steamer  on  the  edge  of  a  submerged 
reef  at  night  time,  when  a  false  reading  of  the 
shore  lights  will  land  his  steamer  with  a  thud 
on  the  reef  proper,  where  she  will  remain  for  years 
in  the  calm  water  long  after  he  has  been  broken. 
For  the  powers  that  be  in  the  merchant  marine 
seldom  forgive  a  mistake. 

At  Raratonga  there  is  no  decent  reef-locked 
lagoon  with  a  passage  through  which  a  steamer 

31 


32  TAHITI  DAYS 

may  pass  in  the  hands  of  a  competent  pilot.  There 
is  merely — on  the  leeward  side — a  fringing  reef, 
bearing  on  its  lip  a  wide  expanse  of  shallow 
water.  However,  at  the  landing  place,  a  stream 
rushing  down  from  the  mountain  apparently  pre- 
vents the  coral  insect  from  building  up  to  the 
surface,  and  the  reef  is  submerged  for  a  space 
of  about  three  hundred  yards.  A  steamer,  guided 
by  signals,  slowly  steams  onto  the  submerged 
reef  and  drops  her  anchor.  If  she  doesn't  get 
quite  on  to  the  reef,  she  loses  her  anchor  and 
much  cable;  if  she  goes  too  far,  a  slight  alteration 
in  the  wind  or  tide  will  swing  her  onto  the  reef, 
where  she  will  join  the  remains  of  several  other 
ships. 

At  the  moment,  the  R.  M.  S.  Maitcd  is  on  the 
reef.  She  has  been  there  for  two  years,  and  it  is 
expected  that  ten  or  fifteen  will  pass  before  she 
breaks  up  and  joins  the  grinning  bones  of  a 
steel  barque  just  beside  her.  She  arrived  from 
San  Francisco  one  night,  and  anchored  on  the 
reef.  She  had  a  large  cheerful  crowd  of  pas- 
sengers, and  others  were  joining  her  from 
Raratonga.  The  port  doctor  was  enjoying  re- 
freshment with  a  few  of  the  officers  in  the  bar, 
when  suddenly  there  were  peculiar  thuds  heard, 
and  the  engine  bells  rang  out.  Her  propellers 
churned  up  the  water.  They  churned  up  the  water 
for  hours,  but  the  Maitai  is  still  there,  looking 
perfectly  whole  and  well,  but  her  cylinders  sub- 


RARATONGA  33 

merged,  and  her  hold  full  of  motorcycles  and  other 
desirable  things,  but  chiefly  dirty  water. 

You  can  go  on  board  her  with  some  risk,  for 
the  ladder  up  her  side  is  growing  rotten,  and  you 
will  see  everything  almost  as  it  was  left — bath- 
rooms, bedrooms,  the  galley  with  pots  and  pans 
still  sitting  on  the  stove,  but  there  is  every  now 
and  then  a  deep,  ominous  sound  as  the  great 
rollers  thrash  against  her  side  and  give  a  tanky 
boom.  I  roamed  all  over  her,  and  removed  some 
of  the  wood  carving  from  her  once  beautiful 
saloon. 

I  think  that  the  doubts  of  the  Paloona's  captain 
were  justified. 

However,  carefully,  gently,  in  deathlike  silence, 
broken  only  by  the  ringing  of  the  engine  bell 
and  occasional  shouts  from  natives  in  canoes,  we 
anchored. 

Then  commenced  a  period  of  mad  excitement. 
With  shrieks,  hoarse  ejaculations,  yells,  sobs, 
laughs — with  a  buoyant  display  of  energy,  a  large 
crowd  of  natives  clambered  up  the  side  of  the 
ship.  The  place  seemed  to  be  possessed  by  mad 
happy  children  with  the  figures,  and  sometimes 
the  profiles,  of  Greek  athletes.  They  peeped  into 
this  door,  gazed  through  that  port,  laughing,  jeer- 
ing, joking;  it  seemed  a  happy  carnival. 

It  was  too  dark  to  see  anything  very  distinctly, 
so  I  accepted  the  invitation  of  the  purser  to  meet 
the  port  doctor  in  the  little  smoking  room. 


34  TAHITI  DAYS 

The  doctor  looked  pale  and  worn;  he  informed 
me  that  life  on  the  island  was  unbearable,  and 
that  I  would  hate  it.  However  we  had  some  re- 
freshment, and  after  bidding  farewell  to  the  cap- 
tain who  had  now  shaved  off  his  beard,  I  managed 
to  scramble  onto  a  small  lighter  and  soon  found 
myself  on  a  small  pier.  I  was  placed  in  the  hands 
of  the  manager  of  "  The  Whare"  the  Government 
accommodation  house,  and  was  given  a  white  bed- 
room with  a  large  bed  swathed  in  white  mos- 
quito netting.  I  slept  but  poorly  that  first  night, 
for  the  Whare  is  but  a  few  yards  from  the  pier 
and  the  natives  were  rolling  a  truck  up  and  down 
on  a  small  tram  line.  One  native  would  ap- 
parently make  a  witty  remark,  and  then  the  rest 
would  shriek  with  delight.  The  great  joke  was 
to  derail  the  trolley.  This  was  irresistibly  funny, 
and  all  would  collapse  with  delight,  and  then  with 
great  labour  put  it  back  on  the  rails,  while  the 
women  stood  off  and  watched  the  performance 
with  much  enjoyment. 

The  next  morning  I  breakfasted  on  the  ve- 
randa, but  everything  I  ate  had  come  out  of  a 
can,  there  being  no  freezer  on  Raratonga  at  this 
time. 

After  breakfast  I  commenced  to  explore  the 
village.  It  consists  of  one  long  beautiful  avenue 
of  palms,  breadfruit  and  flamboyant  trees.  Re- 
spectable bungalows  sit  back  comfortably  amongst 
dainty  gardens.  The  front  door  and  windows  are 


RARATONGA  35 

invariably  wide  open,  exposing  to  the  astonished 
view  of  a  white  man  a  large  bedstead  with  mos- 
quito netting  and  a  round  table  with  a  family 
bible  and  photograph  album  sitting  on  lace  mats. 
The  floor  is  polished  a  dark  rich  brown,  and  is 
covered  in  part  by  native  mats.  I  learnt  after- 
wards that  every  native  possesses  a  house  of  this 
nature  but  that  he  never  dreams  of  sleeping  in  the 
bed,  or  indeed,  of  occupying  the  house  except  upon 
occasions  of  ceremony.  He  has  a  small  whare  be- 
hind, in  which  he  can  spread  himself  in  com- 
fort. Beside  every  house  is  an  open  air  bathroom, 
for  most  natives  bathe  at  least  three  times  a 
day. 

As  I  walked  along  the  avenue,  children — sweet, 
little  brown  faced  cherubs — yelled  with  triumph, 
"  Goo'  bye!  "  Large  females,  clad  in  soft  flowing 
gowns,  greeted  me  with  sweet  smiles  murmuring, 
'  Keorana."  Quite  a  number  of  carriages  with 
high  wheels,  drawn  by  small  horses  and  occupied 
by  huge  persons,  trotted  past.  Even  "  Henry 
Ford  "  was  represented,  and  I  took  off  my  hat  to 
that  American  when  I  realized  his  ubiquity. 

Guided  by  a  friend,  I  was  led  down  to  the 
beach  where  we  found  a  family  of  natives  plaiting 
cocoanut  leaves  into  a  thatch  for  a  new  whare. 
The  head  of  the  family,  a  nice  old  native  called 
Ungene,  greeted  us  kindly  and  finally  offered  a 
small  house  close  by  for  thirty  shillings  a  month. 
I  decided  to  move  in  as  quickly  as  possible,  and 


36  TAHITI  DAYS 

for  a  small  sum  the  landlady  of  the  Whare  lent  me 
towels,  sheets  and  a  few  other  necessary  things. 

The  little  whare,  which  I  promptly  called  Wharf - 
noho,  the  house  of  rest,  consisted!  of  four  walli 
of  upright  poles  painted  white.  The  roof  was  of 
cocoanut  thatching,  and  shade  was  supplied  by  two 
cocoanut  palms  not  sufficiently  old  to  drop  nuts 
on  the  roof  or  my  head.  The  floor  was  fine  coral 
sand. 

The  landlady  of  the  Whare  hung  blue  curtains 
about,  and  she  manufactured  some  golden  coloured 
silk  shades  for  the  lamps.  The  result  was  pretty 
during  the  day,  but  at  dawn,  when  the  sun 
veils  Raratonga  with  a  vesture  of  rosy  light,  the 
effect  was  even  more  lovely.  Can  you  imagine  it 
all?  You  wake  up  in  the  morning  to  the  soft 
chatter  of  natives;  you  look  around;  the  interior 
of  the  house  is  still  dark;  but  the  long  parallel 
lines  of  white  poles  forming  the  sides  of  your 
whare  allow  the  sun  to  penetrate  in  shafts  of 
pink  light.  You  get  up  and  take  the  cup  of  coffee 
that  Ungene's  pretty  daughter  has  brought  you; 
slowly  and  dreamily  you  walk  outside  and  down 
to  the  lagoon  where  you  sit  in  the  warm  water  for 
a  while;  you  return  and  make  your  toilet,  such  as 
it  is.  During  your  absence  Ungene's  daughter  has 
swept  up  the  house  and  has  arranged  quantities  of 
pink  roses  around  the  room.  She  is  still  tidying 
the  room;  you  feel  awkward  while  dressing,  but 
she  doesn't  mind  whether  you  dress  in  front  of  her 


RARATONGA  37 

or  not.  "  Kare  peka-peka  "  (it's  all  right),  she 
thinks.  Finally  she  goes  off,  and  is  followed  by 
Ungene  with  an  offering  of  oranges  all  nicely 
arranged  for  eating,  Mahu-Mahu  the  old  chief  with 
an  offering  of  eggs,  and  finally  a  few  comfortable 
women,  who  sit  and  teach  you  the  language.  It's 
all  very  pleasant,  very  lazy,  and  utterly  demoraliz- 
ing. But  who  cares! 

Only  the  white  folk.  They  care  tremendously, 
and  they  take  a  violent  interest  in  your  morals 
and  commence  to  tear  you  to  pieces.  But  we  won't 
talk  about  them.  Their  souls  have  been  cramped 
like  their  corset-begirt  bodies,  and,  separated 
from  all  the  things  that  really  matter  outside  in 
the  world,  they  study  human  nature  in  a  malignant 
manner. 

My  landlord  and  his  good  lady  soon  adopted 
me,  and  if  the  young  daughter  showed  any  signs 
of  neglect,  if  on  her  way  to  my  whare  in  the  morn- 
ing she  should  stop  to  gossip  about  the  movie  the 
night  before,  Ungene's  wife  called  her  savage 
names.  But  Ungene's  daughter  was  sweet  and 
lovely.  I  can  see  her  now,  standing  at  my  door  in 
her  long  blue  gown  with  a  great  bunch  of  pink 
roses.  I  hope,  rather  than  expect,  that  she  will  find 
a  good  native  husband.  But  she  is  too  pretty,  and 
will  doubtlessly  fall  a  victim  to  some  white  trader 
who,  in  exchange  for  her  love  and  devotion,  will 
give  her  his  foul  body,  and  her  end  will  be  ob- 
vious. 


38  TAHITI  DAYS 

I  found  the  presents  of  native  fruits  acceptable, 
but  I  grew  to  suspect  the  eggs.  A  native  hates 
to  rob  a  hen's  nest;  to  him  it  is  a  species  of 
child  murder,  for  nothing  delights  him  more  than 
the  sight  of  an  important  lady  hen  clucking  about 
followed  by  little  balls  of  fluff  and  feathers  with 
legs  sticking  out  of  them.  Hence  a  hen  pursues 
her  maternal  ambition  until  the  arrival  of  a  white 
man  causes  her  owner  to  rob  her  nest  of  a  few 
eggs.  She  may  have  been  sitting  on  them  for  a 
week! 

Raratonga  is  apparently  of  volcanic  origin,  con- 
sisting of  one  main  peak  which  near  the  top  divides 
into  smaller  cones.  Anything  will  grow  on  Rara- 
tonga— cocoanuts,  oranges,  bananas,  mangoes, 
coffee,  cocoa  and  even  cotton.  But  the  island  is 
too  small  to  cultivate  cotton  profitably,  and  cotton 
exhausts  the  soil.  The  chief  product  of  the  island 
consists  of  cocoanuts  from  which  copra  is  made, 
but  since  New  Zealand  is  merely  eight  or  nine 
days  distant,  many  oranges  and  bananas  are 
exported. 

New  Zealand  governs  the  island  thoroughly  and 
well,  but  the  representative  of  the  crown,  called 
the  Commissioner,  often  finds  it  difficult  to  satisfy 
the  white  population.  For  the  object  of  the  gov- 
ernment is  not  to  make  Raratonga  an  important 
white  settlement,  but  rather  to  assist  the  natives 
to  live  happily.  Hence  it  is  now  difficult  to  obtain 
land  except  upon  an  unsatisfactory  lease  system, 


RARATONGA  39 

whicH  is  so  short  that  it  is  not  a  good  idea  to 
start  a  cocoanut  plantation. 

Unfortunately,  the  natives,  not  inoculated 
against  diseases  like  measles,  mumps  and  influenza 
which  attack  us  with  little  hurt,  are  apt  to  die  in 
hundreds  when  an  epidemic  strikes  the  island. 
Still  there  is  rigid  port  inspection,  and  an  excellent 
hospital  with  plenty  of  medical  supplies  has  been 
established. 

During  the  epidemic,  which  struck  Tahiti  some 
six  months  after  my  visit  to  Raratonga,  a  small 
Cook  Island  schooner  was  berthed  alongside  the 
breastwork  of  Papeete.  The  French,  with  a  care- 
lessness difficult  to  forgive  or  understand,  allowed 
their  own  schooners  to  leave  the  town  from  whence 
they  flew  bearing  the  disease  to  many  a  lonely 
island;  but  the  Raratongan  government  promptly 
wirelessed  to  the  little  schooner,  ordering  her  to 
return  at  once  to  be  quarantined,  and  forbid- 
ding her  to  call  anywhere  en  route.  The  captain 
of  the  schooner  knew  better  than  to  dis- 
obey. 

There  is  one  interesting  law  at  Raratonga 
which  compels  the  parent  of  every  boy  to  plant 
cocoanuts  from  the  year  of  the  child's  birth  until 
he  reaches  an  age  when  he  can  plant  for  him- 
self. If  the  father  neglects  this  he  is  forced  to 
join  a  gang  for  certain  hours  during  the  day,  when 
he  mends  roads  or  performs  other  heart-rending 
work.  The  father  prefers  to  plant  the  cocoanuts, 


40  TAHITI  DAYS 

since  the  work  is  easy,  the  nut  being  placed  in  the 
ground  and  forgotten,  unless  ground  clearing  be- 
comes necessary. 

Rigid  prohibition  prevails  amongst  the  natives, 
although  a  white  man  is  allowed  to  obtain  liquor 
if  he  desires  it.  But  the  natives  have  learnt  the 
joy  of  drinking,  and  finding  it  impossible  to 
obtain  whiskey,  they  sometimes  retire  into  the 
mountains,  and  after  making  some  orange  rum, 
commence  a  wild  orgy  of  drinking.  They  develop 
hilarity  and  sing  at  the  top  of  their  voices,  and 
become  so  optimistic  that  they  welcome  the  police- 
man, who,  having  heard  the  singing,  has  a  drink 
himself  perhaps,  and  then  carts  the  revelers  off  to 
gaol. 

They  are  gentle  with  prisoners  at  Raratonga. 
A  learned  judge  from  New  Zealand,  having 
sentenced  a  man  to  ten  years'  hard  labour  at  Auck- 
land, was  astonished  to  find  the  prisoner  sit- 
ting next  to  him  at  the  Cinema  the  night 
before  his  departure  for  New  Zealand.  The  native 
warders  felt  that,  since  the  criminal  was  go- 
ing off  to  have  an  unhappy  time,  he  might  as 
well  have  one  pleasant  night  before  he 
left. 

There  is  a  very  fine  road  running  around  the 
island,  a  distance  of  twenty  miles.  One  passes 
through  many  native  villages  and  the  roadway  is 
lined  with  the  white  tombs  of  the  departed.  Often 
the  dead  members  of  a  family  are  buried  on  the 


RARATONGA  41 

veranda  of  the  home.  They  are  sealed  with  coral 
cement  so  there  is  no  danger. 

The  natives  are  Christians  on  Raratonga,  but  a 
wholesome  respect  for  the  spirits  of  the  departed 
prevails.  It  is  believed  that  the  spirits  of  the 
departed  take  a  malignant  interest  in  their  fyest 
friends,  so  everything  possible  is  done  to  keep 
them  happy.  Often  sewing  machines,  bicycles, 
and  any  other  well  loved  possession  of  a  dead 
person  are  placed  in  the  sepulchre,  and  the 
whole  safely  sealed  down  with  coral  ce- 
ment. 

I  saw  one  peculiar  tomb  occupied  by  a  white 
man.  His  wife,  a  wealthy  native  woman,  knowing 
a  white  man's  love  for  being  buried  with  six  feet 
of  earth  on  top  of  him,  satisfied  this  demand. 
But  as  a  native  she  desired  to  be  near  him,  so  she 
arranged  a  little  stairway  down  to  the  side  of 
the  tomb  and  here  she  sits  every  day.  "  It's 
rather  funny,"  said  the  white  lady  who  was  driv- 
ing me  round  the  island,  "  he  was  a  filthy,  sodden 
brute,  and  used  to  thrash  her.  He  was  drunk 
when  he  died ;  it  was  when  the  news  of  the  success- 
ful ending  of  the  Boer  War  was  brought  to  the 
islands — he  was  firing  a  rocket  and  it  blew  off  his 
head."  I  wondered.  "  Filthy,  sodden  brute " 
said  the  white  lady.  She  was  possibly  right. 
"  He  was  my  man,  and  I  loved  him,"  says  the 
native  woman,  and  each  day  she  descends  into  the 
little  tomb  and  prays. 


42  TAHITI  DAYS 

We  are  not  going  to  stay  long  at  Raratonga, 
but  before  we  go  it  might  be  an  idea  to  tell  you 
about  babies  on  Raratonga. 

If  you  don't  like  babies  I  would  suggest  your 
missing  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  IV 

BABIES 

SOME  years  ago,  during  the  earlier  days  of 
missionary  effort,  a  young,  good  looking  and 
reasonable  missionary  landed  on  one  of  the  remote 
islands  of  the  Cook  Group.  His  presence  was 
charming,  as  his  personality  was  irresistible,  so 
that  but  a  few  years  passed  before  the  population 
agreed  to  become  Christians.  This  was  pleasant 
for  the  missionary,  but  fraught  with  sorrow  for 
the  people,  when  they  heard  that  their  young 
teacher  felt  it  his  duty  to  carry  on  the  good  work 
further  afield.  Many  openly  regretted  that  they 
had  become  converted  so  quickly,  and  suggested 
at  once  falling  back  into  idolatry,  so  that  the  mis- 
sionary might  stay  to  re-convert  them.  And  al- 
though they  were  not  serious  upon  this  point,  for 
the  Polynesian  readily  takes  to  the  Christian  re- 
ligion, they  were  indeed  perturbed  at  the  idea  of 
losing  their  missionary.  They  pleaded  with  him 
not  to  go,  but  finding  him  obdurate  they  wept 
a  great  deal,  while  the  chief  called  together  a  public 
assembly  to  discuss  the  farewell  exercises.  The 
business  of  this  assembly  had  almost  ended  when 
an  old  chief  stood  up  and  made  oration.  "  It  is 

43 


44  TAHITI  DAYS 

sad,"  he  said,  "  that  this  young  man  whom  we  love 
so  well  should  depart.  No  matter  how  brightly 
the  sun  may  shine,  there  will  yet  be  bitter  dark- 
ness over  the  island,  for  our  spirits  will  weep 
greatly;  though  many  turtle  pass  the  island, 
and  the  young  men  be  lucky  with  the  hook, 
our  stomachs  will  not  be  satisfied,  for  our 
souls  will  hunger  for  his  gracious  pres- 
ence. It  is  sad;  the  women  will  weep  al- 
ways; and  there  will  be  no  peace  in  the 
whore." 

The  audience,  visibly  affected,  groaned,  but  the 
old  man  went  on. 

"What  shall  we  do?     I  have   thought  of  an 
idea!     Let  us  revive   the   practice   of  our   fore- 
fathers,   and   choosing   the    fairest   damsel    from 
amongst  the  maidens,  let  us  present  her  to  him 
during  his  remaining  days  with  us.     Perhaps  a 
child  will  be  born  to  such  a  maiden,  and  then,  if 
God  should  be  kind  and  it  happen  to  be  a  boy— 
for  such  we  must  pray  earnestly  in  the  church— 
we  will  have  a  fitting  reminder  of  his  gracious 
presence." 

The  members  of  the  assembly  all  said  that  they 
were  going  to  suggest  a  similar  idea,  and  the  chief 
was  requested  to  hand  over  to  the  missionary  his 
own  daughter  Motu,  who  of  all  the  maidens  on 
the  island,  was  the  most  lovely.  Which  is  not 
saying  much,  for  the  natives  of  this  island  were 
notoriously  ugly. 


By    Courtesy   of   the   American   Museum 
of  Natural   History,   New   York 


A   RARATONGAN   MAORI 

This  man  displays  the  close  relationship  between  the  Raratongan  Maori  and 
the  New  Zealand  type.  The  face  is  a  trifle  heavy,  and  shows  slightly  the 
negroid  strain  which  can  be  detected  more  in  New  Zealand  and  Raratonga 
than  in  Tahiti  and  the  Marquises. 


By   Courtesy   of   the   American   Museum 
of  Natural   History,   Ntw   York 


A    RARATONGAN    IN   FESTIVE   ATTIRE 

When  leaving  Raratonga  the  natives  covered  me  with  an  even 
greater  quantity  of  beads  than  this  man  wears.  The  effect  was  less 
Interesting  over  European  attire. 


THE  AVKXUE  WHICH   EXCIRCLKS  THE   1  SLA XI)  OF   RABATONGA 

This  road  is  kept  in  order  by  convicts  and  those  who  neglect  the  surviving 
portions  of  the  old  missionary  code  which  said,  in  effect,  "The  soul  that  sin- 
neth,  it  shall  make  many  rods  of  highway."  The  avenue  is  lined  with  cocoa- 
nuts,  bananas,  breadfruit  trees,  oranges,  mock-coffee  trees,  cocoa  and  many 
other  tropical  plants  too  numerous  to  mention. 


BABIES  45 

So  the  chief  approached  the  missionary,  and  ex- 
plained the  scheme. 

Imagine  the  feelings  of  the  good  man!  He 
kriew  not  whether  to  laugh  or  to  cry,  but  the  mis- 
sionary of  my  story  had  a  sense  of  humour,  and 
he  finally  laughed,  explaining  that  he  already  had 
a  wife  in  England. 

But  knowing  that  this  explanation  was  in- 
adequate, he  endeavoured  to  show  that  the  idea, 
while  flattering,  could  not  be  put  into  practice 
since  the  laws  of  the  church  forbade  anything  of 
the  sort.  And  let  me  add  quickly,  he  is  not  even 
now  convinced  that  the  native  suggestion  was 
wicked  and  immoral;  indeed  he  believes  that  these 
simple  men  and  women  were  no  further  off  from 
the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  for  believing  that  the 
presence  of  a  little  child  could  keep  them  steadfast 
to  the  faith. 

There  are  not  a  few  who  will  discredit  my 
story;  some  will  use  it  as  a  further  proof  of  the 
notorious  sensuality  of  the  Polynesians.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  these  children  of  nature  have 
simply  not  learnt  thoroughly  the  convenience  and 
utility  of  married  life.  What  we  call  their  im- 
morality they  regard  as  a  natural  process,  and 
they  cannot  see  any  harm  or  wickedness  in  it. 
They  are  babies  themselves,  and  the  most  saintly 
Christian  among  them,  truly  saintly  mark  you, 
falls  with  the  greatest  of  ease  the  moment  he  is 
tempted  in  this  way.  The  missionaries  have  tried 


46  TAHITI  DAYS 

hard  to  make  them  understand ;  they  may  succeed 
some  day. 

As  it  is,  the  white  man  finds  no  difficulty  in 
obtaining  a  temporary  wife  from  amongst  the 
native  women.  The  process  of  taking  a  wife  of 
this  nature  is  sometimes  done  openly.  It  all  de- 
pends upon  the  white  population.  On  Raratonga, 
except  among  hardened  sinners,  it  is  done  secretly, 
so  much  so,  in  fact,  that  the  saintly  white  women 
have  sometimes  got  to  question  the  natives  in 
order  to  get  the  really  exciting  part  of  the  gossip. 
The  gossip  of  a  saintly  white  woman  on  Rara- 
tonga is  more  interesting  than  the  Decameron. 

The  white  man  is  sometimes  a  bird  of  passage, 
and  he  goes  off  covered  with  beads  and  decorations, 
promising  to  come  back.  He  tells  a  select  few  in 
the  smoking  room  of  the  mail  steamer  all  about 
the  romance,  and  they  rub  their  hands  gleefully, 
desiring  greatly  to  visit  the  island. 

As  for  the  lady,  she  tangles  (weeps)  for  him 
several  'days,  and  then  goes  about  her  business,  as 
cheerful  as  ever. 

Perhaps  a  baby  arrives;  then  there  is  wild 
excitement  in  the  house  of  her  father.  It  is  a 
white  baby — wonderful. 

:<  Mother  frightened  by  a  white  man  a  few  days 
before  its  birth,"  they  tell  the  missionary. 

"  Just  like  its  father,"  they  whisper  to  one 
another.  <;<  How  perfectly  splendid !  " 

The    young    mother,    disgracefully    unmarried, 


BABIES  47 

becomes  the  envy  of  all  her  friends,  who  crowd 
round  begging  to  be  allowed  to  nurse  the  child 
for  a  time.  Since  it  is  her  first  baby  she  ought 
to  give  it  up  to  her  mother  who  will  adopt  it; 
if  the  second,  the  old  widowed  chief  might  want  it; 
the  third  can  go  to  her  dear  friend;  she  may  keep 
her  fourth.  Chiefs,  owing  to  their  rank  and  in- 
fluence, get  their  pick  of  the  babies. 

All  babies  are  adopted  by  some  one  or  other  im- 
mediately after  birth;  hence  a  man  has  two 
mothers,  his  real  mother  and  his  mother  by  adop- 
tion, called  his  feeding  mother. 

This  would  seem  at  first  sight  to  be  harsh  on 
the  reaj  mother,  but,  since  she  has  been  busily 
adopting  other  folks'  babies,  she  doesn't  seem  to 
mind.  It  is  a  strange  custom  but  I  have  never 
succeeded  in  getting  a  better  explanation  than, 
"  Oh,  it's  the  custom  of  the  country." 

So  the  father  is  forgotten,  although  his  fame  and 
greatness  are  duly  chronicled  to  his  offspring, 
who  is  convinced  that  he  has  merely  to  go  to 
England  or  America  to  get  "  lands."  Of  course 
he  is  illegitimate,  but  that  doesn't  matter  a  cuss. 
The  baby  is  much  too  valuable  to  be  affected  by 
such  a  word. 

And  so  the  disgraceful  thing  becomes  a  beauti- 
ful thing  on  Raratonga.  No  one  is  going  to  look 
at  a  child  and  say,  "  Poor  boy — his  father  ye* 
know — a  white  man — used  to  drink  a  great  deal — 
went  off  on  the  Tofua  to  Frisco — whatever  would 


48  TAHITI  DAYS 

his  wife  say  if  she  knew — beautiful  woman " 

and  all  the  other  gossip  of  the  whites.  No,  it  is 
different  in  the  South  Seas.  A  baby  begotten  in  sin 
is  born  midst  love,  and  One  said,  "  Suffer  little 
children  to  come  unto  me,  for  of  such  is  the  King- 
dom of  Heaven."  He  meant  illegitimate  ones,  too. 

I  did  not  find  all  this  out  on  Raratonga.  It  is 
the  result  of  long  observation,  and  we  may  possibly 
refer  to  it  again. 

But  the  carpet  is  still  waiting  near  Raratonga 
and  we  must  be  off.  But  before  we  go  on  board 
the  Moana  who  is  waiting  on  the  reef,  let  me  tell 
you  of  the  good-bye  ceremony  which  took  place  in 
my  house  at  Raratonga. 

Early  that  last  morning,  indeed  before  I  had 
arisen,  there  arrived  a  solemn  and  heart  rending 
procession  consisting  of  Taraara,  the  chief  of  the 
district,  followed  by  Ungene,  his  wife,  their 
daughter,  Teokotahi  and  numbers  of  other  folk. 
I  hopped  out  of  bed  feeling  confused  and  miser- 
able. They  approached  one  by  one,  and  solemnly 
covered  me  with  beads  and  flowers.  Ungene's 
wife  placed  a  hat  with  a  wide  brim  and  a  small 
crown  on  the  top  of  my  head  and  murmured, 
"Beautiful!"  I  felt  like  a  corpse  at  a  funeral, 
but  I  didn't  see  how  I  could  shave  and  dress 
with  all  these  things  dangling  round  me.  Un- 
gene's wife  commenced  to  weep  efficiently;  I 
wanted  to  weep,  too;  but  I  also  wanted  to  dress. 

However,  with  beads  rattling  round  me,  and  the 


BABIES  49 

hat  perched  delicately  on  the  top  of  my  head,  I 
rushed  for  the  bathroom  where  I  quickly  shaved 
and  dressed.  When  I  returned,  the  people  were 
still  there,  and  more  were  coming  including  quite 
disinterested  folk  who  also  showered  me  with 
gifts.  It  was  all  very  sad,  sweetly  melancholy, 
and—  "  the  custom  of  the  country!"  However, 
the  Moana,  waiting  on  the  reef  surrounded  by  in- 
numerable canoes,  commenced  making  hoarse 
noises,  so  shaking  hands  with  all  again  I  rushed  off 
making  a  noise  like  a  freight  train  as  the  beads 
rattled,  and  finally  reached  the  landing  place,  where 
a  small  tender  took  me  off  to  the  Moana. 

So  we  say  good-bye  to  Raratonga.  It  is  a 
lovely  island,  but  it  gets  on  one's  nerves  after  a 
few  weeks. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  MOAN  A 

WHEN  I  was  a  small  boy  playing  about  the  beach 
at  Auckland  I  think  I  knew  the  lines,  the  size, 
the  particular  tilt  of  the  funnel  and  the  number 
of  masts  on  every  ship  that  entered  the  harbour. 
Being  well  primed  up  with  information  gleaned 
from  the  newspaper  the  night  before,  it  was  not 
difficult  to  assert  superiority  of  knowledge  over 
the  other  young  beach  combers  when  a  signal  ap- 
peared on  Mount  Victoria  telling  that  a  ship  was 
passing  Tiritiri  light.  An  hour  would  pass  before, 
with  much  fuss  round  her  bows,  the  ship  would 
come  round  the  North  Head  into  the  Waitemata. 
'  I  told  you  so,  see? "  I  would  yell  to  the  others 
who  had  taken  the  other  side  of  the  argument. 
Then  we  would  watch  as  she  gradually  slowed  up 
and  finally  anchored  awaiting  the  attention  of  the 
port  authorities. 

Ships  to  me  were  gigantic  personalities.  The 
funnel  was  the  head.  If  it  were  large  and  held 
erect,  so  much  the  better;  if  small,  there  was  an 
element  of  humour,  like  the  wit  of  a  hunch- 
back. The  masts  were  the  legs.  If  tall  and  sweep- 
ing she  was  a  little  old  fashioned,  but  none  the 

50 


THE  MOAN  A  51 

worse  for  that — possibly  built  on  the  Clyde  when 
they  knew  how  to  build  ships  there.  If  the  masts 
were  short  and  stocky,  allied  to  a  hull,  firm  and 
strong  and  surmounted  by  a  good  sized  funnel, 
this  showed  strength  and  dignity.  Then  the  port- 
holes; these  had  to  be  large  with  the  brass  lining 
well  polished,  and  there  had  to  be  plenty  of  them, 
because  this  suggested  a  certain  magnificence — a 
pleasing  picture  of  thick  red  velvet  upholstery, 
tables  covered  with  serge  and  a  few  palms,  and 
nice  little  bunks  with  a  slight  imitation  of  bed- 
steads, while  smart  young  stewards  dashed  around 
ministering  to  the  wants  of  the  lucky  passengers- 
people  who  could  talk  calmly  about  seeing  Jones 
in  Wellington,  or  Smith  in  Sydney  last  week. 

Now  in  New  Zealand  there  is  an  exceedingly 
smart  line  of  steamers.  I  have  wandered  around 
the  world  a  little,  but  for  efficiency,  beauty  of  de- 
sign, comfort  and  general  sea-worthiness,  I  have 
never  found  anything  to  beat  the  Union  Steam- 
ship Company.  There  are  larger  ships  on  the 
Atlantic — they  are  magnificent  and  beautiful— 
but  they  just  miss  something  which  the  Scotch 
directors  of  the  Union  Line  understand. 

Amongst  my  ship  pals  there  was  one  whom  I 
loved  and  admired  most.  She  was  the  Sydney 
mail  steamer,  and  used  to  appear  every  fortnight 
coming  round  the  North  Head  with  much  foam 
round  her  bows.  Emitting  steam  from  her  funnel, 
she  would  gradually  slow  up ;  and,  after  anchoring, 


52  TAHITI  DAYS 

a  small  launch  from  the  city,  apparently  bearing 
the  doctor  and  the  port  officials,  would  rush  out 
to  her.  She  looked  a  giant.  She  had  good  solid 
masts,  and  the  designers  had  put  the  finishing 
touch  to  her  beauty  by  cutting  the  top  of  her 
funnel  and  making  it  parallel  to  her  decks.  This 
was  perhaps  exaggerated,  but  it  gave  her  dis- 
tinction, and  a  haughty  air  that  appealed  to  me. 
She  was  called  the  Moana,  pronounced 
"  mourner "  by  those  who  know  the  Polynesian 
language.  The  word  Moana  means  the  deep  still 
sea,  not  the  ocean  in  ferment,  but  the  great  still 
ocean  when  the  spirit  of  God  is  breathing  upon 
the  face  of  the  waters. 

But,  alas,  this  was  nearly  twenty  years  ago  and 
my  old  friend  had  come  upon  hard  days.  In  fact, 
if  it  had  not  been  for  the  war,  when  her  younger 
and  more  beautiful  sisters  were  sent  off  to  carry 
troops,  I  am  certain  that  she  would  not  have  been 
asked  to  occupy  the  position  of  Royal  Mail 
Steamer  between  New  Zealand  and  San  Fran- 
cisco. 

Still,  when  I  stepped  on  board  the  Moana  at 
Raratonga  my  old  love  and  admiration  returned. 
It  mattered  not  to  me  that  she  was  arranged  badly, 
that  the  first-class  passengers  were  compelled  to 
live  right  aft  following  the  old  custom  of  the  sail- 
ing ships,  when  the  after  deck  was  the  deck  of 
honour;  that  she  was  slow — she  could  only  churn 
out  about  twelve  knots  an  hour — I  admitted,  but 


THE  MOAN  A  59 

during  the  war  it  was  impossible  to  keep  the  en- 
gines in  perfect  condition;  I  refused  to  note  the 
shabbiness  of  the  upholstery,  the  worn  carpets, 
the  decks  stained  with  age  and  discarded  cigar- 
ettes; all  I  saw  was  the  Moana,  my  old  friend 
of  boyhood  days,  and  I  was  proud  to  be  on  board 
her. 

I  had  no  sooner  stepped  on  the  deck  than  I  was 
led  by  a  friend  into  the  saloon  where  we  were 
annexed  by  five  good  fellows  averaging  the  age 
of  about  fifty,  and  taken  into  a  curious  little  ante- 
room, just  off  the  bar.  Here  every  one  placed  a 
shilling  on  the  table  and  one  commenced  throwing 
dice.  After  a  time,  when  the  dice  box  had  been 
rattled  many  times,  they  all  handed  me  their 
shillings  and  I  was  urged  to  pay  for  the  drinks. 
This  I  did  very  readily,  and  received  some  change, 
which  they  assured  me  was  my  just  due.  This 
performance  happened  nearly  every  day  before 
meals. 

There  was  one  young  lady  on  board,  and  she 
might  have  had  an  amusing  time ;  but,  although  she 
was  pretty,  she  was  not  interesting. 

I  think  the  most  distinguished  person  on  board 
was  the  man  from  Dunedin.  He  was  a  member 
of  the  church  session,  consequently  an  elder,  and 
a  man  of  some  repute  in  the  Presbyterian  congre- 
gation of  a  large  town  in  New  Zealand.  He  was 
on  spiritual  leave.  His  conduct  was  irreproach- 
able, but  a  spirit  of  fun,  of  goodfellowship  pos- 


54,  TAHITI  DAYS 

sessed  him  and  we  all  founcf  him  amusing  and 
delightful.  His  only  offense  was  a  determination  to 
sing  "  Annie  Laurie  "  which  he  invariably  did  after 
dinner,  after  breakfast  and  after  lunch.  He  used 
to  play  bridge  poorly,  but  a  gambling  spirit,  also 
a  conceit  about  his  own  bridge,  made  another 
passenger,  George  MacLein,  insist  upon  having 
the  elder  for  a  partner.  MacLein  suffered  men- 
tally and  financially. 

MacLein  was  a  huge,  stout  young  man  of  forty 
with  a  good  natured  smile  and  a  slow  way  of 
speaking.  His  father  had  been  one  of  the  early 
Island  traders,  and  the  son  had  inherited  some 
wealth,  and  much  business  acumen.  He  liked  the 
elder,  and  seemed  to  understand  that  the  good 
man  was  on  spiritual  leave  and  that  the  inevitable 
reaction  would  follow.  He  treated  him  gently 
and  tried  to  save  him  money  at  bridge. 

The  elder  was  a  fur  merchant  with  a  belief  in 
the  possibilities  of  the  New  Zealand  rabbit.  And 
judging  by  the  sample  pelts  of  every  shade  which 
he  carried,  his  belief  would  seem  to  be  justified. 
One  day,  in  his  cabin,  he  showed  me  his  photo- 
graphs. "  This  is  my  wife,"  he  said,  showing  the 
picture  of  a  thin  nervous  looking  woman  with  large 
bright  anxious  eyes.  She  was  dressed  in  black, 
and  seemed  to  fear  the  solemn  eye  of  the  camera, 
as  if  it  were  searching  her  soul.  She  might  have 
been  a  condemned  man  facing  a  firing  squad,  try- 
ing to  keep  up,  but  in  deadly  fear.  "  She's  dead," 


THE  MOAN  A  55 

the  elder  went  on,  "  about  seven  months  ago — con- 
sumption. My  son's  got  it  too,  but  he's  getting 
better."  And  then  I  understood  the  elder's  holi- 
day, although  it  seldom  takes  a  man  like  that. 

I  saw  him  for  the  last  time  as  the  Moana  slowly 
moved  away  from  the  dock  at  Papeete  a  few  days 
after.  He  was  leaning  over  the  bulwarks  singing 
in  a  bad  tenor  voice,  "  Annie  Laurie." 

The  two  days'  journey  to  Tahiti  was  delightful. 
The  sea  was  smooth,  and  one  day  we  saw  on  the 
horizon  Tahiti  and  Moorea.  A  few  hours  passed 
and  we  came  into  the  broad  channel  between  the 
two  islands. 

We  had  been  signalling  for  a  pilot,  and  after 
he  had  joined  us,  we  passed  between  the  two  ends 
of  the  reef  into  the  smooth  waters  of  the  lagoon, 
where  a  French  doctor  with  much  bustle  and 
bristling  came  on  board  and  examined  our  persons 
and  our  passports. 

The  little  town  of  Papeete  looked  attractive 
from  the  lagoon.  The  breastwork  was  lined  with 
numbers  of  white  schooners,  while  the  wharf  was 
crowded  with  hundreds  of  men  and  women  wait- 
ing to  see  the  steamer  berthed. 


CHAPTER  VI 

TAHITI 

TAHITI  is  the  main  island  of  the  French  Society 
group ;  Papeete  is  the  largest  town,  with  a  popula- 
tion of  four  thousand  inhabitants.  When  I  first 
arrived  in  the  little  town  these  four  thousand 
souls  seemed  the  happiest  and  wickedest  people 
it  had  ever  been  my  fortune  to  meet.  The  thin, 
yellow,  unclean  looking  Chinamen,  who  seemed  to 
be  lurking  or  crouching  in  the  stores  one  passed, 
destroyed  a  charming  picture,  but  after  a  time  it 
became  possible  to  ignore  them. 

When  I  left  Papeete  about  eight  months  later 
I  left  a  city  of  mourners  and  dead  men  and  women. 
One  third  of  the  native  population  had  died  under 
frightful  conditions,  some  of  influenza,  some  of 
starvation,  many  of  sheer  fright.  I,  myself,  had 
lost  complete  control  and  had  become  a  weak 
species  of  idiot.  But  we  are  not  going  to  talk 
of  dead  Papeete,  but  rather  of  the  cheerful  gay 
little  Paris  of  the  Pacific. 

For  although  the  French  do  not  seem  to  succeed 
well  as  colonizers,  although  they  allow  open  drains 
to  run  through  the  avenues  of  mango  and  bread- 
fruit trees,  they  yet  have  imprinted  upon  the 

66 


TAHITI  57 

Tahitians  their  own  personal  charm.  This  is 
particularly  noticeable  amongst  the  half-caste 
population  which  today  forms  the  bulk  of  the 
people.  Someone  said,  I  think  it  was  Lord  Pem- 
broke in  his  amusing  book  "  South  Sea  Bubbles," 
that  if  God  made  both  the  black  and  the  white 
man,  leaving  the  manufacture  of  the  half-caste 
to  the  devil,  his  satanic  majesty  had  made  a  good 
job  of  his  work  in  Tahiti.  It  is  impossible  not  to 
agree. 

The  captain  of  the  Moana  very  kindly  took  me 
to  lunch  with  him  at  the  house  of  one  Tati,  an 
elderly  half-caste,  who,  having  been  educated  at 
the  Charterhouse  in  England,  had  spent  the  rest 
of  his  life  in  careful  study  of  cabbages,  kings  and 
copra.  His  education  in  England  had  given  him  a 
touch  of  our  British  snobbishness,  which  explains 
his  love  for  kings,  princes,  and  the  blood-royal. 
He  used  to  suggest  that  his  own  native  blood  was 
very  blue,  but  some  folks  on  the  island  laughed 
at  his  claims.  However,  by  the  judicious  marriage 
of  his  family  he  had  managed  to  put  all  doubts  to 
rest  regarding  the  blood  of  his  descendants.  His 
sister  had  married  the  king,  his  eldest  son  had 
married  a  Pomare  princess  called  Matauera,  while 
his  nephew  had  married  the  queen  of  a  neighbour- 
ing island. 

While  it  is  true  that  all  these  matrimonial  ad- 
ventures were  not  successful,  since  King  Pomare 
of  Tahiti  divorced  his  queen  who  died  socially 


58  TAHITI  DAYS 

in  the  odour  of  scandal,  and  his  nephew  was  also 
divorced  by  his  queen,  yet  his  eldest  son  lived  so 
happily  with  Princess  Matauera  that,  upon  be- 
coming a  widow,  that  lady  promptly  married 
another  of  Tati's  sons  and  produced  several  chil- 
dren, including  a  fine  boy. 

We  lunched  in  a  long  cool  room  at  Tati's.  I 
sat  next  to  Madame  la  Princess  Matauera  who 
from  that  day  until  I  left  the  island  was  my  very 
good  friend.  She  was  large,  but  she  had  a  poise, 
an  air — something  which  marked  her  royal  blood. 
She  understood,  but  could  not  speak  English. 
We  therefore  spoke  French,  and  she  congratu- 
lated me  upon  my  French,  remarking  that  I  had 
a  bon  courage! 

I  told  Tati  of  my  intention  of  living  for  some 
months  on  Tahiti  and  I  asked  him  if  it  would  be 
possible  to  obtain  a  small  house.  He  promptly 
put  me  into  the  hands  of  Ina  and  Hototu,  two  of 
his  descendants,  and  after  lunch  we  commenced  a 
search,  which  had  the  usual  success  of  house  hunt- 
ing expeditions. 

However,  after  a  time  we  found  a  shack, 
perched  on  high  legs  at  the  end  of  a  small  penin- 
sula jutting  out  into  the  lagoon,  but  Ti-ti,  the 
owner,  wanted  a  dollar  a  day  for  it,  which  was  an 
absurd  price,  so,  in  some  anger  we  left  her.  How- 
ever, further  search  proving  fruitless,  we  returned 
and  after  much  bullying,  much  joking,  and  even 
more  threatening,  she  agreed  to  let  me  have  the 


TAHITI  59 

house  for  four  dollars  a  week.  Until  my  house 
should  be  made  ready  I  arranged  to  stay  at  Lav- 
ina's.  Lavina  is  the  lady  whom  the  author  of 
'  The  Moon  and  Sixpence  "  calls  Tiare  Johnson. 
Her  real  name,  Louisa  Chapman,  is  less  interest- 
ing. 

And  although  it  is  possible  to  object  to  Mr. 
Maughan's  choice  of  such  a  name  for  dear  old 
Lavina,  his  picture  is  wonderful,  so  wonderful 
indeed,  that  I  can  imagine  her  throwing  up  her 
hands  in  horror  if  anyone  had  been  brave  enough 
to  lend  her  the  book.  Lavina  was  an  extraordinary 
combination  of  saint  and  sinner.  She  sinned  in 
French  and  Tahitian  but  was  eminently  respectable 
in  English.  She  would  have  enjoyed  a  French 
translation  of  "  The  Moon  and  Sixpence." 

The  natives  called  her  "  Lu-vina."  And  the  very 
word  raises  a  vision  of  Tahiti.  One  sees  her  sitting 
in  her  ante-room  near  the  dining  veranda,  clad  in 
a  long  flowing  robe  which  helped  to  hide  her 
ample  figure.  Her  name  brings  back  to  one's 
mind,  thoughts  of  delicious  pineapple  tarts,  rum 
punch  and  iced  cake;  it  suggests  restful  conversa- 
tion and  dreamy  stories  of  Robert  Louis  Stevenson 
and  the  old  romantic  island  days;  one  remembers 
the  wild  nights  of  hula-hulas,  and  the  scent  of  the 
Tiare  Tahiti  in  the  garden. 

Lavina  was  like  the  rest  of  her  race — a  perfect 
Christian  in  everything  except  her  inability  to 
appreciate  respectable  morals.  But  her  personality 


60  TAHITI  DAYS 

was  extraordinary.  One  simply  had  to  love  her, 
and  the  happiest  hours  many  a  man  has  spent  on 
Tahiti  have  been  passed  listening  to  her  common- 
place conversation. 

She  had  made  a  success  of  her  hotel,  but  lack- 
ing a  financial  sense,  she  had  fallen  prey 
to  the  ubiquitous  Chinamen,  one  of  whom,  called 
"  Ileen,"  had  bought  her  establishment  and  will- 
ingly paid  Lavina  a  few  hundred  francs  a  month 
to  sit  and  let  loose  her  personality  upon  the  guests. 

If  you  were  a  saint,  Lavina  respected  you;  if 
you  were  a  good-looking  sinner,  she  loved  you 
and  gave  you  a  cocktail  with  sugar  round  the  top 
of  the  glass;  if  you  were  neither,  you  bored  her. 
When  the  epidemic  struck  the  island  Lavina  was 
the  first  to  die,  and  one  of  her  son's  greatest 
disappointments  was  the  smallness  of  her  funeral. 

"  Maama  would  have  had  such  a  wonderful 
funeral  had  she  died  at  any  other  time,"  he  said, 
while  he  wept  sadly. 

Most  of  the  people  were  ill  and  dying,  although 
many  managed  to  struggle  out  of  bed  to  follow 
the  hearse.  Having  been  bidden  to  the  funeral, 
I  cycled  into  Papeete  to  attend  the  service.  The 
French  official  was  watching  the  sealing  of  the 
coffin,  while  a  few  people  stood  around  quietly 
and  reverently.  Men  and  women  alike  were 
weeping. 

Henry,  her  nephew,  much  overcome,  had  tried 
to  drown  his  grief  in  rum.  He  lurched  over  to 


THK  R.  ii.  s.  "MOAXA"  ix  THE  LAGOON  AT  PAPEETE 

The  camera,  alas,  sees  the  "Moana"  as  she  is — a  rather  old  steamship,  with 
little  to  recommend  her  when  one  thinks  of  the  magnificent  liners  of 
today.  Still,  she's  a  mighty  stout  ship  in  a  gale,  and  her  accommodation 
is  not  uncomfortable. 


THE  BEACH  AT  PAPEETE 

When  you  first  arrive  in  Papeete,  you  see  these  schooners,  and  your  soul  is 
filled  with  romantic  longings  for  adventure  on  the  high  seas,  but — once  you 
get  outside  the  reef,  and  your  schooner  makes  rapid  and  quick  obeisance 
to  every  wave  for  ten  days  or  so,  you  become  entirely  unconscious  of  your 
soul,  but  your  body  yearns  with  a  great  yearning  for  mother  earth. 


THE   COMMUNITY   WASH-HOUSE  IN   PAPEETE 

In  the  old  days,  the  natives  lived  in  the  valleys  along-side  streams  of  fresh  water. 
Forced  to  live  in  the  semi-European  town  of  Papeete,  they  missed  the  fresh  water  of 
the  country.  The  French  established  a  large  cement  bath  arrangement  which,  being 
sub-divided,  made  washing  comparatively  easy  and  delightful,  since  one  met  one's 
friends,  passing  a  cheerful  day  gossiping  and  doing  a  little  washing  occasionally.  Now 
that  a  decent  water  supply  exists,  merely  a  few  old-fasliioned  souls  come  to  the  wash- 
house. 


A  "FARE,"  OB  NATIVE  HOUSE 

Most  native  families  possess  two  or  three  houses.  Bored  with  one,  they  move  off  to 
another,  bearing  their  personal  impedimenta  in  parcels.  The  "fares"  are  invariably 
spotlessly  clean,  as  are  their  occupants. 


TAHITI  61 

me  and  said,  "Hello,  Mac!  Gee,  it's  a  pity! 
But,  Mon  Dieu,  she  was  as  heavy  as  lead."  I 
tried  to  ignore  this  remark,  which  was  disturbing 
to  the  mourners,  but,  thinking  I  hadn't  heard,  he 
shouted  with  a  gay  laugh,  "  D'yer  hear,  Mac,  she 
was  as  heavy  as  lead — a  very  good  woman  though; 
she's  gone,  but,  my  hat,  she  was  heavy." 

The  French  protestant  clergyman  having  read 
the  service,  the  coffin,  with  much  effort,  was  car- 
ried to  the  hearse.  We  followed  slowly  behind, 
through  the  town  that  was  then  dying,  until  we 
reached  the  cemetery;  but  on  the  journey  Henry 
continually  upset  the  procession  by  shouting  in 
everyone's  ear,  "  A  good  woman,  but,  gosh,  she 
was  heavy! " 

The  road  becomes  steep  leading  to  the  cemetery 
at  Papeete,  and  the  horses  found  the  load  too 
heavy.  Still  they  pulled  willingly,  until  one  of 
the  traces  broke.  Everyone  shouted,  there  was 
much  excitement  as  the  hearse  threatened  to 
topple  over,  but  we  managed  to  hold  it,  and  then 
with  a  right  good  will  we  pushed  it  up  to  the 
graveside. 

The  service  had  finished,  the  padre  had  said, 
"  Au  revoir,  Lavina,  until  we  meet  again,"  we 
had  dropped  roses  on  the  coffin,  desiring  these 
emblems  of  our  love  to  mix  with  her  dust,  when 
there  was  a  curse  of  pain  as  Henry,  leaning  across 
the  grave,  crashed  his  huge  fist  into  the  face  of 
one  of  the  convict  grave  diggers,  who  had  offended 


62  TAHITI  DAYS 

him  in  some  way.  Then  more  shouting — more 
trouble,  but  finally  there  remained  but  five  or  six 
people  who  somehow  found  it  difficult  to  leave 
the  graveside.  "  I've  lost  a  very  good  friend," 
said  the  American,  "  a  very  good  friend." 

Dear,  sweet  old  Lavina,  your  arms  were  like 
"  legs  of  mutton,"  it  is  true  your  breasts  were 
huge  "  like  cabbages."  We  never  saw  these 
things.  We  just  saw  you — a  sweet,  good  woman. 
May  you  rest  quietly  in  the  arms  of  God,  who 
gave  you  the  soul  of  an  angel,  the  mind  of  a  child, 
and  the  body  of  a  weak  human  like  the  rest  of  us. 

But  this  digression,  which  I  owe  to  Lavina, 
since  I  loved  her,  has  taken  us  ahead  of  our  story. 

I  lived  at  the  Tiare  Hotel  for  several  days 
until  the  shack  at  Taunoa  was  ready.  Ina  and 
Hototu,  having  takeii  complete  charge  of  my 
household  arrangements,  borrowed  many  ferns 
and  flowering  plants,  and  with  these  they  suc- 
ceeded in  turning  my  little  fare  into  a  species 
of  conservatory.  Ti-ti,  my  landlady,  had  bought 
the  necessary  knives  and  forks  for  the  house,  and 
with  some  difficulty  we  succeeded  in  urging  a 
certain  humble-looking  Chinaman,  called  Wong, 
to  cook  for  sixteen  dollars  per  month. 

People  say  that  the  Japanese  are  notoriously 
dishonest,  but  that  John  Chinaman  will  never 
steal.  It  is  of  course  always  wrong  to  judge  a 
nation  by  a  single  individual,  but  if  all  Chinamen 
are  like  Wong,  then  may  the  Lord  preserve  us 


TAHITI  63 

from  Chinamen.  I  trusted  and  believed  in  Wong, 
but  I  clasped  a  dragon  to  my  breast.  Yet  he 
was  a  pleasant  man,  always  smiling,  often  sing- 
ing in  a  falsetto  voice,  sometimes  cooking,  but 
never  doing  as  much  work  as  he  might  have  done. 
To  buy  the  necessary  provisions  for  the  house- 
hold, I  used  to  give  him  five  francs  every  night 
before  he  left.  During  the  first  month  he  brought 
plenty,  only  spending  one  franc  per  night  on 
fan-tan;  during  the  second  month  he  brought 
sufficient,  spending  two  francs  per  night  on  fan- 
tan;  during  the  third  month  it  was  necessary  to 
give  him  two  extra  francs  if  I  were  entertaining 
the  next  day,  for  he  was  now  spending  three 
francs  on  fan-tan.  Finally  I  gave  him  four  dol- 
lars to  pay  a  bill  for  some  trousers,  and  Wong 
disappeared.  But  I  was  after  him.  I  went  to 
the  "  chief  of  the  congregation,"  an  elderly  and 
respectable  Chinese  merchant,  and  told  him  my 
trouble. 

"  What's  his  name? "  asked  this  worthy. 

"  Wong,"  I  replied. 

"  All  Chinamen  called  Wong,"  he  said  with  a 
smile. 

"But  he  comes  from  Hongkong;  that  ought 
to  be  a  guide,"  I  returned. 

"All  Chinamen  come  from  Hongkong,"  he 
replied,  still  smiling,  "  but  come  look  in  the 
book."  He  thereupon  showed  me  the  pictures 
of  one  thousand  Chinamen,  for  all  Chinese  give 


64  TAHITI  DAYS 

their  photographs  to  the  chief  of  their  congrega- 
tion. But  I  merely  saw  a  rogues'  gallery  of 
almond-eyed  criminals  looking  precisely  alike. 
However,  I  said  to  the  old  gentleman,  "  If  Wong 
appears  at  my  house  tomorrow,  all  will  be  well. 
If  he  does  not,  then  the  gendarmes  will  get 
him." 

Wong  returned  next  day  and  agreed  to  work 
for  two  weeks  without  salary.  But  at  this  time 
I  went  off  in  a  schooner,  leaving  my  house  to  a 
Norwegian  friend.  Wong  told  him  that  I  had 
paid  him  twenty-five  dollars  a  month,  and  man- 
aged to  steal  four  francs  a  day. 

Still,  life  in  the  little  shack  was  delightful,  in 
spite  of  the  pillaging  instincts  of  Wong.  Thinking, 
doubtlessly,  of  his  alleged  wife  and  five  children  in 
Hong  Kong,  he  regarded  his  master  as  fair  game ; 
and  his  master  was  much  too  lazy  to  watch  him. 

Of  course  it  is  more  than  probable  that  the  pres- 
ent "  high  cost  of  living  "  has  affected  Tahiti  like 
the  rest  of  the  world,  but  a  rough  table  of  expenses 
prevailing  during  my  visit  may  be  of  interest. 
Here  follows  the  table: 

Fare  from  San  Francisco  to  Papeete      $168.00  return 
Rent  of  small  house  4.00  per  week 

Market    provisions    including    meat 

and  fish  1.00  per  day 

Laundry  (white  linen  clothes)  1.00  per  dozen 

articles 


TAHITI  65 

Groceries,  such  as  flour,  sugar,  butter,  milk, 
ice,  etc.,  cost  practically  the  same  on  Tahiti  as 
anywhere  else.  On  the  whole,  a  man  could  live 
with  a  servant  at  the  rate  of  three  dollars  a  day. 
Without  a  servant  the  amount  is  much  less.  It 
is,  however,  difficult  to  obtain  a  furnished  house, 
and  the  hotel  accommodation  in  the  town  of 
Papeete  is  not  good.  Also  I  would  not  advise 
an  invalid  person  to  stay  long  in  Papeete.  The 
drainage  system  is  bad,  and  at  night  time  the 
climate  is  damp.  But  a  study  of  my  usual  day 
will  show  how  it  is  possible  to  compensate  for  the 
dampness  of  the  climate. 

I  got  up  at  six  o'clock,  and,  after  flinging  my- 
self into  the  smooth  warm  water  of  the  lagoon, 
I  would  swim  about  for  a  few  minutes  and  then 
come  to  anchor  a  few  yards  from  the  shore,  sit- 
ting on  the  soft  sand  with  the  warm  water  wash- 
ing around  me.  Wong,  having  arrived,  would 
call,  "Sarve!"  and  I  would  then  have  a  shower 
bath,  and,  clad  simply  in  a  dressing  gown,  sit 
on  a  veranda,  drinking  good  rich  coffee  and  eat- 
ing a  few  warm  rolls  with  honey. 

After  coffee,  when  the  sun  had  attained  some 
strength,  I  would  remove  the  dressing  gown, 
and,  wrapping  a  wet  towel  around  my  head,  and 
clad  only  in  a  native  pareu,  I  would  lie  at  full 
length  in  the  sun.  The  sun  used  to  bake  me,  and 
possibly  removed  all  the  moisture  from  my  lungs. 
Of  course  I  got  sunburnt,  but  Ti-ti  cured  this 


66  TAHITI  DAYS 

by  rubbing  tnonoi,  scented  cocoanut  oil,  all 
over  me,  and  soon  I  was  as  brown  as  a 
native. 

After  the  drying,  another  cold  bath  became 
necessary,  but  of  course  the  water  is  never  cold, 
just  lukewarm.  After  the  bath  I  would  launch 
a  canoe,  and,  once  more  clad  in  a  pareu,  I  would 
paddle  out  to  the  reef  or  join  some  fishermen 
diving  for  fish. 

You  cannot  tempt  a  South  Sea  Island  fish  to 
take  a  hook  during  the  day  time.  The  lagoon, 
however,  is  filled  with  great  subterranean  chasms, 
and  alongside  the  great  coral  cliffs  fish  swim  laz- 
ily about.  The  natives  dive  down  alongside  these 
cliffs,  and  the  fish  retreat  into  small  caves,  where 
they  are  jabbed  by  a  many-pointed  spear.  Some- 
times the  fisherman  is  caught  himself  by  a  shark, 
but  not  often,  for  sharks  of  any  size  seldom  come 
into  the  lagoon.  In  any  case,  a  shark  seldom 
attacks  a  lively  object.  He  likes  great  hunks 
of  meat,  rubbish — any  filth  that  comes  his  way. 
Still,  if  he  meets  a  tempting  morsel  in  the  way 
of  a  stout  old  gentleman  or  a  slow  swimmer,  he 
has  no  objection  to  doing  justice  to  a  meal  so 
happily  presented.  Still  it  is  inadvisable  to  take 
any  chances  with  a  shark.  He  is  not  a  nice  fish. 
Sometimes  an  octopus  is  found  and  brought  to 
the  surface  easily,  for  those  inside  the  lagoon  are 
not  large — about  four  feet  over  all. 

If  there  were  no  fishermen  about,  much  amuse- 


TAHITI  67 

ment  could  be  obtained  wandering  about  the 
reef. 

At  eleven  o'clock  it  was  necessary  to  return 
for  breakfast,  which  would  consist  of  fruit,  meat, 
and  potatoes,  vegetable  salad,  fruit  salad,  coffee, 
and  a  glass  of  white  wine.  Smoking  was  for- 
bidden. Which  was  trying. 

After  breakfast  I  would  retire  from  the  world 
and  sleep  until  three,  when  Ina  and  Hototu,  with 
their  children  and  their  retinue  of  servants,  would 
arrive  and  spread  themselves  about  the  veranda. 
Ti-ti,  my  landlady,  and  her  sister,  Manu,  would 
soon  join  us.  Here  we  would  sit  and  gossip  in 
French,  Tahitian,  and  English,  a  sort  of  compote. 
If  the  subject  were  shocking  we  would  confine 
ourselves  to  Tahitian;  if  only  naughty,  French 
would  do;  if  respectable,  English  met  the  case. 
You  can  be  shocking  in  native  without  a  blush. 
We  would  have  tea  at  four  o'clock,  consisting 
of  fresh  bread  and  jam.  After  tea  someone 
would  shriek,  "" Haere  mai  hapu  ete  miti"  Which 
meant,  Come,  let's  all  go  into  the  water. 

So  we  would  all  go  into  the  water.  Hototu 
often  refused,  since  she  was  lazy,  but  her  children 
would  persuade  her,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we 
would  be  swimming  and  dashing  around  an  old 
wrecked  ship.  It  was  great  fun,  but  the  great 
thing  was  to  swim  after  Ti-ti,  who  was  stout, 
and  when  near  her  dive  down  and  pull  her  to 
the  bottom.  She  really  loved  this,  although  she 


68  TAHITI  DAYS 

objected  strenuously.  She  would  have  her  re- 
venge. She  could,  of  course,  swim  well,  and 
she  would  commence  pursuing  the  culprit,  slowly 
but  surely,  until  she  got  him,  and  then  look  out. 
I'm  afraid  that  when  she  had  finished  with  him 
he  would  be  repentant  and  without  a  single  shred 
of  bathing  suit  left  on  him. 

Then  we  would  all  return  to  the  little  house, 
sitting  about  for  a  time,  until  old  Tina  came 
to  give  me  my  massage  of  cocoanut  oil.  She 
would  rub  my  chest  and  back  for  nearly  an  hour, 
telling  delicious  stories  the  while.  Tina  saved 
my  life;  I  tried  to  save  hers,  but  failed.  For 
when  the  epidemic  came  she  took  everyone  into 
her  fare  and  nursed  them.  But  later  I  found 
her  alone  with  the  sickness,  but  on  her  hands 
and  knees  she  had  crawled  into  the  next  fare, 
where  an  old  woman — a  friend  of  hers — lay  dead. 
She  was  trying,  sick  and  dying  as  she  was,  to 
dress  the  corpse  in  its  grave  clothes  so  that  it 
would  have  a  happy  passage  to  the  land  of  spirits. 
And  I  said,  "  Aita,  pea-pea,  it  does  not  matter, 
Tina,  come  into  your  fare."  And  I  led  her  into 
her  house.  Her  patients  had  died  or  had  left 
her.  A  few  days  later  I  opened  a  hospital  really 
for  old  Tina,  but  when  in  triumph  I  went  to 
get  her  she  was  at  the  point  of  death  and 
wouldn't  come.  She  said,  "  Eriana,"  (bye  and 
bye). 

Hototu,   Ina,   and  their  attendants   left  about 


TAHITI  69 

five  o'clock,  but  there  was  still  the  sunset  to  be 
enjoyed. 

Oh,  those  sunsets  at  Tahiti!  Look  through 
these  eyes  of  mine  carefully.  See,  the  lagoon 
is  now  quite  dark,  losing  its  day  dress  of  blue. 
Eut  the  wavelets  that  kiss  the  shore  are  becom- 
ing tipped  with  maroon.  The  red  is  getting 
lighter  now;  soon  it  will  be  pink.  And  see,  fur- 
ther out,  the  sea  is  golden,  variegated  with  pink 
between  the  waves.  Now  all  is  deep  red  and 
gold;  slowly  it  becomes  pink.  Now  again  it's 
red.  Look  at  far-distant  Moorea;  the  peaks  are 
tipped  with  gold.  See,  the  sun  is  bidding  good- 
bye; only  half  of  him  can  be  seen  now.  But 
the  lagoon  is  still  red;  now  it  is  becoming  bronze. 
Now  the  sun  has  disappeared,  and  blackness  has 
come  upon  the  face  of  the  waters.  Only  the 
afterglow  is  left,  and  soon  this  fades  away  and 
leaves  the  world  to  darkness. 

And  I  turn  away  into  my  fare  and  feel  sad. 
I  want  England;  I  want  my  friends;  I  want 
many  things;  but  I  don't  want  to  go  into  Papeete 
to  the  movie  show  although  I  know  that  Ti-ti 
will  be  over  in  a  moment  to  ask  me  to  look  after 
her  son  Bobbie.  Ti-ti  fears  that  a  bad  woman 
will  get  Bobbie. 

From  amidst  the  banana  palms  and  breadfruit 
trees  lights  are  twinkling  as  the  natives  trim  their 
kerosene  lamps  and  get  ready  to  turn  in.  Some 
of  them,  especially  those  who  have  lost  relations 


70  TAHITI  DAYS 

recently,  leave  lights  burning  all  night.     It  keeps 
the  spirits  away. 

Along  the  main  avenues  strings  of  electric 
bulbs  burst  into  light. 

I  am  having  supper,  when  sure  enough  Ti-ti 
comes  over  to  ask  me  to  look  after  Bobbie. 
Bobbie  is  Ti-ti's  eldest  son.  His  father  is  a 
Frenchman  with  an  unpleasant  temper,  and  Ti-ti 
hates  bad  tempered  men  as  steady  husbands.  She 
prefers  Moe,  the  father  of  her  two  youngest,  but 
Moe  is  getting  old  and  I  fear  that  one  day  he 
will  thrash  Ti-ti  so  heavily  that  she  will  be  com- 
pelled to  send  him  off  to  his  tribe.  At  least,  with 
tears  and  sobbings,  she  will  tell  that  to  the  Magis- 
trate, and  Moe  won't  deny  it. 

But  Bobbie  is  the  apple  of  Ti-ti's  eye.  He  is 
a  good-looking  boy,  strictly  virtuous,  but  futile. 
Ti-ti's  other  son  is  more  amusing.  He  looks  a  per- 
fect native  and  indeed  is  three-quarters  Tahitian. 
Ti-ti  fears  that  he  will  shortly  become  immoral, 
but  she  keeps  a  firm  eye  on  him.  One  night,  this 
boy,  who  is  sixteen,  was  forced  to  drink  by  some 
traders  who  were  celebrating  the  signing  of  the 
armistice.  The  boy,  being  drunk,  feared  to  return, 
and  that  night  Ti-ti  came  to  my  fare  and  wept 
bitterly,  cursing  Moe  heartily.  She  was  con- 
vinced that  a  bad  woman  had  taken  off  her  son, 
and  she  was  inconsolable.  When  the  lad  returned 
the  next  day,  she  brought  him  over  to  me  and, 
forcing  him  onto  his  knees,  made  him  swear  in 


TAHITI  71 

my  presence  that  he  would  never  drink  again,  and 
never  stay  out  at  night  time.  She  was  virtuously 
indignant;  her  heart  was  broken;  she  cursed  all 
bad  females,  and,  having  soundly  thrashed  the  boy, 
went  off  to  the  movie  show  to  meet  a  young  man 
whom  she  liked.  It  is  quite  possible,  though  im- 
probable, that  she  returned  early. 

Manu,  her  sister,  was  a  handsome  woman,  a 
good  mother  to  her  three  different  coloured  chil- 
dren and  a  husband  hater.  She  liked  men  folk, 
but  preferred  not  to  have  them  about  the  house. 
Manu  had  a  small  son  called  Piko.  Piko  loved 
cats  and  invariably  went  about  with  a  kitten  which 
he  habitually  left  at  my  house.  Finally  the  cat 
adopted  me  and  refused  to  follow  him  any  longer. 
And  so  Mi-mi  became  a  part  of  my  household. 
She  was  a  great  climber,  and  could  run  up  a 
cocoanut  tree  with  the  greatest  of  ease.  But  she 
enjoyed  especially  to  sleep  on  the  top  of  the  house, 
and  I  expected  her  to  fall  through  the  light 
thatching  any  day  or  minute.  She  finally  had 
kittens  on  the  roof  and  one  did  drop  through, 
much  to  her  surprise.  So  she  placed  them  all 
under  the  bed  until  they  were  old  enough  for  Piko 
to  carry  about. 

I  used  to  find  the  hours  between  sunset  and 
nine  o'clock  lonely,  but  one  could  sit  outside  quite 
happily.  Somehow  the  wind  did  not  seem  to  dis- 
turb the  lamp  and  fortunately,  on  Tahiti,  there 
are  no  long-legged  monsters  flying  about  to  fling 


72  TAHITI  DAYS 

themselves   into   your   eyes   and   to   disturb   you. 

Perhaps  one  of  the  prettiest  sights  from  my 
house  was  the  reef  after  dark.  It  used  to  be 
lined  with  fishermen,  each  with  a  great  torch  seek- 
ing fish  for  the  morning  market.  I'll  tell  you 
about  torch  fishing  when  we  get  up  to  the 
Paumotus,  where  fish  abound  and  where  I  often 
indulged  in  the  slaughter  myself. 

Around  my  house  were  innumerable  crab  holes. 
From  these  during  quiet  moments  great  big  land 
crabs  would  slowly  emerge  and  work  their  way 
over  to  any  leaves  or  fallen  blossoms  that  were 
lying  about.  These  crabs  will  eat  anything. 
Once  a  big  crab  took  one  of  my  towels  down 
into  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  but  found  it  un- 
palatable, so  returned  it  to  the  surface.  Actually 
they  are  excellent  scavengers  and  as  such  they 
are  invaluable.  They  have  great  strong  pincers 
but  a  slight  kick  will  smash  them  into  pieces.  I 
understand  that  they  are  good  to  eat;  but  no  one 
attempts  to  eat  them  if  they  are  found  within 
a  mile  or  so  of  human  habitation.  They  are  really 
obnoxious,  but  •  fortunately,  since  no  plant  except 
the  cocoanut  and  one  or  two  shrubs  are  safe  from 
them,  they  only  thrive  close  to  the  sea. 

Near  my  house  there  had  once  been  a  native 
marai  or  temple  and  it  was  alleged  that  the  spirits 
of  those  who  had  been  offered  to  the  gods  in 
sacrifice  walked.  Natives  alleged  that  they  had 
seen  them.  They  were  certain  that  they  were 


TAHITI  73 

spirits,  for  they  walked  with  their  feet  a  few  inches 
off  the  ground.  Tahitian  spirits  always  walk  like 
that.  These  spirits  are  called  "  tupapau."  The 
Maoris  of  New  Zealand  call  them  "  tipos  "  and 
children  sometimes  place  a  candle  inside  a  cleaned- 
out  pumpkin  and  dangle  it  from  a  tree  if  a 
Maori  is  likely  to  pass. 

One  day  on  Tahiti  was  very  much  like  another, 
although  the  arrival  of  the  mail  steamer  used  to 
make  a  pleasant  break.  Of  course,  one  could 
always  go  to  the  movies  at  night  time,  and  a 
movie  show  in  the  South  Seas  is  intensely  amus- 
ing. The  natives  respond  very  easily  to  any  form 
of  narrative.  They  are  deeply  sympathetic  and 
it  is  almost  unnecessary  to  watch  the  picture  to 
get  an  idea  of  the  story. 

The  man  running  the  show  sits  in  the  gallery 
commenting  upon,  and  translating  the  picture. 
His  explanations  of  the  strange  habits  of  the 
white  folk  in  movieland  are  funny.  He  is  sad 
during  pathetic  moments;  he  is  furious  with  the 
villain,  acting  indeed  as  the  mouthpiece  of  the 
audience  when  he  expresses  his  abhorrence  of  his 
wicked  deeds.  In  fact,  it  is  difficult  to  convey 
with  mere  words  an  impression  of  the  movies 
in  the  South  Seas.  However,  I'll  try  in  the  next 
chapter. 


CHAPTER  VII 

MOVIES  IN  THE  SOUTH  SEAS 

IT  is  seven  thirty. 

The  tropical  night  is  very  dark. 

Around  the  corrugated  iron  shack  are  many 
stalls,  the  hurricane  lamps  from  which  give  a  weak 
yellow  light.  The  dim  light  is  depressing.  The 
stars,  seen  vaguely  through  the  palms,  look  down 
with  amusement.  Each  pin  prick  in  the  dome  of 
heaven  suggests  a  solemn  eye. 

Native  men  and  women  stand  around  in  soft 
flowing  robes  of  clean  print.  They  eat  oranges. 
The  young  women  are  coy.  They  jeer  at  the 
good-looking  boys  and  arrange  to  meet  after- 
wards— after  the  movie. 

There  is  a  noise  as  of  a  gas  engine — quick,  im- 
pudent, throbbing.  There  is  much  light — bright, 
hard  light,  as  twenty  electric  globes  become  alive. 
The  tropical  night  is  conquered;  the  stars  wink 
in  vain ;  their  amusement  is  futile. 

There  is  much  excitement.  The  movie  is  now 
going  to  commence. 

We  all  enter  the  building,  and  there  is  at  once 
the  sweet  smell  of  cocoanut  oil  and  gardenia.  The 
building  is  crowded,  for  tonight  a  great  picture 

74 


MOVIES  IN  THE  SOUTH  SEAS       75 

will  be  presented.  Tonight's  the  night!  There 
will  be  another  great  picture  tomorrow  night,  and 
the  next  night,  and  the  night  after  that — every 
night.  But  tonight  is  the  night.  Let's  be  happy 
now.  There  is  no  tomorrow  and  no  yesterday  on 
our  mental  horizon.  We  live  in  the  present;  for 
God  is  good. 

The  picture  commences  and  the  conductor  from 
the  balcony  sitting  on  a  deck-chair  explains  the 
picture  for  we  cannot  read  the  writing  of  the 
Paratane.  Also  the  white  folk  do  such  strange 
things.  They  start  to  do  interesting  things  but 
they  never  finish.  The  white  folk  are  strange. 
Perhaps  they  don't  know.  We  could  show  them 
much. 

The  band  plays.  There  is  darkness.  The  pic- 
ture commences.  Soon  the  words  will  stop.  There 
are  many  words  and  the  pictures  are  dead;  they 
are  grey  and  white.  Now  they  live. 

The  vahine  appears.  Oh,  she  is  very  lovely. 
See,  her  face  is  now  big  and  of  a  strange  white- 
ness. Much  soap  she  has  used,  for  her  face  is 
very  white.  See  her  hair,  the  light  is  shining  on 
it;  and  her  eyes  are  very  big  and  beautiful.  She 
smiles  and  we  smile  too.  Why  do  the  white  men 
come  and  make  love  to  us?  We  are  black;  yes, 
we  are  black — like  the  negro.  The  white  man 
says  we  are  not  black,  but  just  brown.  We  are 
black!  It  is  true. 

She  lives  in  a  beautiful  fare.     There  are  many 


76  TAHITI  DAYS 

chairs  and  she  sits  on  a  chair.  This  is  unneces- 
sary, for  are  there  not  many  carpets  on  the  floor? 
An  old  man  sits  at  a  table.  Like  the  missionary 
he  speaks  slowly,  and  his  hair  is  white.  What  is 
he  saying?  We  know  not. 

Now  she  is  going  to  the  house  where  white 
women  dance.  They  dance  with  white  men  who 
wear  black  clothes.  They  look  like  beetles.  You 
cannot  see  their  legs.  It  is  a  pity. 

There  is  one  white  man  who  looks  strange.  He 
has  evil  designs.  He  will  surely  be  the  cause  of 
much  trouble.  There  is  another  man.  He  is  very 
beautiful.  His  face  is  like  the  face  of  an  angel, 
but  he  is  sad.  His  face  is  now  big,  it  takes  up  the 
whole  screen,  and  it  is  very  lovely.  See,  he  smiles, 
but  sadly;  his  smile  is  like  sunshine. 

The  people  dance.  They  do  not  dance  the  hula- 
hula.  But  the  men  and  women  are  close  together. 
What  will  happen  next?  Is  it  proper  to  hold  a 
man  so  close  to  you?  Yes,  it  is  proper;  the  white 
folk  do  not  know. 

The  man  with  evil  designs  smiles  on  the  lady 
of  beauty.  She  is  unhappy.  It  is  terrible;  surely 
he  will  thrash  her.  He  holds  her  hand— tightly. 
They  are  alone  in  a  small  room.  God,  he  is  going 
to  kill  her!  He  is  holding  her  hand.  It  is  awful. 
We  are  all  breathing  heavily.  The  women  surely 
will  rise  up  and  kill  the  man.  It  is  awful.  Where 
is  the  handsome  young  man? 

"  Sit  down,  Marfa.    All  will  be  well." 


1I' If  II  If. 


A  TAHITIAN  BABY 

The  fare    (house)    has  no  windows.      Light  and  air  pass  through   the 
upright  bamboo   poles  which  form   the   sides. 


HOTOTL 

If  you  ever  wanted  to  embark  on 
a  wild  escapade;  if  you  wanted 
to  arrange  a  dance;  if  you  wanted 
to  do  anything  unusual  and  joy- 
ous, all  you  had  to  do  was  to  dis- 
cuss the  matter  with  Hototu. 


MADAME,  LA  PRINCESS  MATAUEBA 

Almost  I  would  apologise  to  Ma- 
tauera  for  inserting  this  picture. 
To  me  she  was  the  perfect  prin- 
cess— charming,  gentle,  vivacious, 
full  of  fun  and  kindly  mischief, 
yet  withal  digniflec' . 


THE  TIABE  TAHITI    (FLOWEB  OF  TAHITI) 

It  is,  of  course,  the  gardenia,  which  the  Tahitians  claim  as  their  own  national 
flower.  Actually  it  was  brought  to  Tahiti  by  the  missionaries.  It  is  but 
seldom  that  a  Tahitian,  male  or  female,  appears  without  a  flower  behind  his 
or  her  ear.  The  gardenia  has,  however,  a  special  significance,  since  worn 
behind  the  left  ear  at  a  party  it  advertises  the  fact  that  its  wearer  is  looking 
for  a  partner.  When  a  suitable  partner  has  been  found  the  flower  is  at  once 
transferred  to  the  right  ear.  The  gardenia  is  also  used  in  the  manufacture 
of  monol,  scented  cocoanut  oil. 


THE  LAGOON   AT  PAPEETE,    WITH    THE   QUARANTINE  ISLAND   IN    THE   BACKGROUND 

Tina  wearing  the    scarlet  pareu;    her  two   friends   are   clad   in   a   species  of   mother  hub- 
bard;  the  small  boys  have  done  as  much  as  they  thought  necessary  with  handkerchiefs. 


TAII1TIAN    GIRLS    IN    A    FISHING    CANOE 

One  hundred  years  ago  the  girls  would  have  worn  a  graceful  costume  of  hibiscus  bark; 
fifty  years  ago  the  scarlet  pareu  would  have  sufficed  during  the  absence  of  the  mis- 
sionary; today  the  mother  hubbard,  with  a  French  suggestion  (unnoticeable  in  the  pic- 
ture) answers  the  purpose.  These  young  ladies,  found  by  the  dozens  in  the  streets  of 
Papeete,  neither  work  nor  spin,  but  they're  invariably  charming  and  often  actually 
beautiful.  As  usual,  the  camera  makes  them  look  like  negroes. 


TINA    RETURNING   FROM   HER   DIP   IN    THE  LAGOON 


MOVIES  IN  THE  SOUTH  SEAS       77 

We  are  breathing  heavily.  The  men  are  mut- 
tering, "  Damn  that  man.  Why  he  hurt  the  pretty 
vahine? "  See,  he  is  speaking  firmly  and  she  is 
weeping.  We  too  are  weeping.  How  the  white 
folk  suffer ! 

Would  it  not  be  better  for  her  to  kiss  him — to 
pretend  that  she  loves  him  and  then  to  run  away — 
quick.  Her  face  is  now  large  and  from  her  big 
eyes  tears  are  descending.  Auel  Auel  The  tears 
are  descending  like  milk  from  a  cracked  cocoanut. 
Big  tears.  Perhaps  her  cousin  is  dead  and  there 
will  be  a  tangi. 

Now  she  is  small  again  and  the  man  can  be  seen. 
Oh,  Atua,  he  has  picked  her  up.  He  is  running 
through  the  house.  They  are  in  a  motorcar. 
Where  is  the  lovely  young  man?  He  does  not 
know,  for  he  is  sitting  talking  to  another  man. 
He  does  not  know.  Auel  Auel 

Things  are  terrible.  There  is  no  hope.  The 
world  is  full  of  suffering.  There  is  no  fish  to 
eat.  We  are  old.  There  is  a  cyclone,  for 
the  heavens  are  dark  and  soon  many  will 
be  dead.  Let's  now  run  up  the  cocoanut 
trees. 

The  beautiful  vahine  is  now  in  the  house  of  the 
man  of  evil  designs.  What  will  he  do  ?  Poor  man, 
he  has  no  vahine  and  he  wants  her.  It  would  be 
better  if  she  pretended.  See,  she  is  getting  up. 
She  speaks  harshly  but  sweetly.  She  fights  him. 
She  is  wrong,  for  men  can  fight  better,  and  he 


78  TAHITI  DAYS 

will  thrash  her;  then  she  will  love  him,  and  the 
beautiful  young  man  will  be  forgotten. 

Still  the  young  man  is  sitting  in  the  house  of 
many  tables  talking  to  another  tane.  Why  he  not 
get  up  and  look?  See,  he  is  now  looking.  He 
searches,  but  in  vain.  The  young  man  with  the 
thin  legs  and  the  little  round  cap  tells  him  some- 
thing. He  runs  out ;  he  gets  in  his  motorcar.  The 
motorcar  goes  quickly.  Surely  he  will  find  the 
beautiful  vahine. 

She  is  still  in  the  house,  but  she  has  not  learnt 
to  pretend.  The  conductor  says  that  such  is  the 
way  of  white  women.  They  will  not  be  with  men 
they  do  not  love.  Why?  All  men  are  good. 

Now  two  very  bad  men  come  in.  Atua,  it  is 
awful.  What  will  they  do?  She  is  in  great  dis- 
tress now.  See,  she  is  screaming.  It  is 
terrible. 

"  Sit  down,  Marfa.  AU  will  be  well.  If  you 
tear  the  screen  we  will  not  see  the  picture." 

We  are  breathing  heavily.  Our  hearts  are 
pounding.  They  pound  like  hammers. 

They  carry  the  beautiful  vahine  into  a  room. 
They  are  going  to  kill  her.  See,  they  have  bound 
her  hands  and  her  feet  and  over  her  mouth  they 
have  put  a  cloth.  Soon  she  wrill  die. 

But  see,  the  motor  of  the  young  man  is  rushing 
along  the  roads.  Lights  are  twinkling.  Will  he 
be  in  time?  We  cannot  breathe  now.  We  must 
wait.  See,  he  is  getting  near  the  house.  But  he 


MOVIES  IN  THE  SOUTH  SEAS       79 

will  be  too  late,  for  they  are  now  going  to  kill 
the  woman.  They  are  going  to  drop  her  down  a 
well.  See,  they  are  getting  her  ready  and  her 
beautiful  eyes  are  closed. 

All  joy  has  left  us.  We  can  never  be  happy 
again.  There  is  too  much  suffering  in  this  world. 
Let's  all  go  and  throw  ourselves  over  the  reef 
where  the  sharks  may  eat  us.  We  cannot  breathe. 

"  Sit  down,  Marfa.  You  make  too  much  noise. 
True,  she  may  die.  We  too  are  unhappy.  She  is 
not  like  your  daughter.  Your  daughter  is  black." 

Aue!    Auel 

But  the  young  man  is  racing  in  his  car;  per- 
haps he  may  save  her.  See,  he  has  entered  the 
house.  He  takes  a  gun  from  his  pocket.  We  can- 
not breathe.  We  are  breathless.  Atua,  save  that 
woman.  It's  awful,  terrible.  She  is  now  being 
carried.  She  is  perhaps  dead.  Auel  Auel 

The  people  in  the  shack  are  all  breathless. 
Many  are  weeping. 

But  the  young  man  runs  up  the  stairs.  With  his 
revolver  he  enters  the  room.  The  man  of  evil 
designs  sees  him,  but  he  holds  up  his  hands.  Why 
doesn't  the  beautiful  young  man  kill  him?  No,  he 
binds  him  with  the  table  cloth.  Now  he  will  go 
into  the  room.  But  he  is  too  late.  The  beautiful 
vahine  is  now  in  the  water.  No,  not  yet,  but  soon. 
The  men  holding  her  hear  a  noise.  They  wait. 
The  door  is  opened  and  they  too  put  up  their 
hands.  Then  there  is  shooting.  The  young  man 


80  TAHITI  DAYS 

is  down  with  a  big  man  on  top  of  him.  There  is 
more  shooting.  The  beautiful  vahine  cannot  help, 
for  she  is  bound.  See,  her  eyes  are  big  and  the 
whites  can  be  seen.  How  can  we  stand  it!  See,  the 
young  man  has  thrown  one  of  the  bad  men  right 
over  his  head,  but  the  other  gets  up.  How  strong 
he  is,  and  she  will  love  so  strong  a  man! 

See,  now  all  the  bad  men  are  lying  on  the  floor 
dead.  Now  we  can  breathe. 

"  Do  not  cry,  Marfa.  We  too  are  crying— 
with  joy." 

See,  he  has  unbound  her,  and  she  is  still  lovely. 
See,  he  looks  at  her.  She  looks  at  him.  They 
throw  their  arms  round  each  other.  The  band  has 
started,  for  it  could  not  play  during  the  suffer- 
ing. 

See,  they  place  their  lips  together.  Why?  Is 
this  clean?  But  always  the  white  men  place  their 
lips  close  to  the  lips  of  their  women.  It  is  a 
strange  custom. 

Now  for  the  comic.  Now  we  can  laugh.  Now 
we  can  be  happy.  Truly,  the  white  folk  suffer 
much  and  do  funny  things  as  well. 

The  movie  is  over. 

From  the  corrugated  iron  shack  the  people 
come  out.  They  linger.  The  maidens  meet  the 
tanes.  They  walk  midst  the  palms.  The  maidens 
no  longer  jeer.  They  are  soft  and  kind.  Their  eyes 
are  filled  with  tears.  For  men  are  brave,  and  they 
will  suffer  for  their  women. 


MOVIES  IN  THE  SOUTH  SEAS       81 

It  is  dark.  Our  faces  are  not  black.  They  are 
brown-golden.  It  is  pleasant  to  walk  in  the  palm 
trees  with  a  tane. 

The  white  people   suffer  much. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

OFF  TO  THE  PAUMOTUS 

Now  it  happened  one  day  that  MacLein,  whom 
I  had  met  on  the  Moana  when  travelling  from 
Raratonga  to  Tahiti,  came  out  to  Taunoa,  and 
invited  me  to  a  feast  at  Taravao.  The  chief  ess,  an 
old  sweetheart  of  his,  had  arranged  to  give  him 
a  farewell  party. 

I  gladly  accepted,  and  spent  a  wild,  happy  day, 
decorated  with  flowers,  and  dancing  until  a  late 
hour. 

At  the  party  was  a  young  man  of  pleasing 
appearance  called  Tenuaha,  and  Tenuaha  told  me 
so  much  about  his  home  in  the  Paumotus  that  I 
desired  greatly  to  see  those  islands.  Tenuaha  in- 
vited me  to  visit  him  on  Fagatau,  the  island  where 
he  manages  a  store  for  a  large  French  trading 
firm. 

Desiring  to  hear  more  of  this  thing,  I  invited 
him  to  take  dinner  with  me  the  following  day, 
so  that  we  might  discuss  plans. 

And  the  discussion  was  so  fruitful  that  I 
wanted  to  go  off  with  him  the  following  day. 
Unfortunately  his  schooner  was  already  crowded, 
and  I  was  unable  to  get  passage,  but  Tenuaha,  or 

82 


OFF  TO  THE  PAUMOTUS  83 

Arthur  Estall,  to  give  him  his  English  name, 
suggested  that  I  should  follow  in  the  Kaeo,  a  large 
schooner  preparing  to  sail  in  a  few  days.  This 
seemed  satisfactory,  so  I  took  the  necessary  steps 
to  arrange  my  passage. 

If  you  desire  to  travel  on  an  island  schooner, 
you  don't  merely  go  to  the  shipping  office,  and, 
producing  your  pocket-book,  ask  politely  for  a 
berth.  In  old-fashioned  countries  like  England 
one  does  that  sort  of  thing,  but  not  in  Papeete. 
The  objections  of  the  owner,  the  captain,  the 
"  chef  mechaniden  "  and  even  the  supercargo  have 
got  to  be  overcome  before  you  can  think  of  sail- 
ing. I  admit  now  humbly  that  I  did  approach 
the  manager  of  the  trading  firm  which  believed 
it  owned  the  Kaeo,  and  I  found  this  gentleman 
charming,  and  whimsically  amusing,  but  quite 
vague  as  to  the  date  upon  which  the  Kaeo  would 
sail.  In  regard  to  my  passage — well,  he  didn't 
quite  know,  but  he  thought  it  might  be  something 
like  three  or  four  dollars  a  day  and,  "  Why  on 
earth  do  you  want  to  go  to  the  Paumotus?"  he 
asked. 

"I'll  tell  you  all  about  them — I've  never  been 
there;  I  won't  go  there,"  he  continued  as  we 
finally  sat  down  on  that  convenient  seat  just  out- 
side Maxwell  and  Company's  office;  "  still  I  know 
all  about  the  Paumotus." 

But  I  gained  little  valuable  information  except 
the  literal  meaning  of  the  word  "  Hikuero,"  the 


84  TAHITI  DAYS 

famous  pearl  island  of  the  group,  which  was  divert- 
ing, but  not  respectable.  However,  he  thought  that 
perhaps  the  Kaeo  might  sail  the  following  week — 
he  devoutly  hoped  so — but  then  the  Kaeo  is  always 
in  a  condition  of  sailing  "  next  week."  In  this 
she  resembles  Mr.  Micawber's  bay  window. 

So  I  left  him  discouraged,  and  decided  to  move 
slowly.  Fortunately,  as  I  walked  along  the  beach, 
I  discerned  the  genial  and  insistent  figure  of  Mac- 
Lein  in  the  distance,  and  quickening  my  pace  I 
easily  overtook  him.  I  told  him  of  my  troubles 
and  he  agreed  to  arrange  everything  for  me. 

It  was  done  like  this : — He  asked  the  captain  of 
the  Kaeo  and  several  others  to  lunch  at  Lavina's 
and  he  placed  me  next  to  the  captain.  We  dis- 
cussed everything  except  the  Paumotus,  while  I 
awaited  my  chance  to  broach  the  subject  of  my 
trip.  I  tried  to  make  myself  as  agreeable  as 
possible,  being  careful  not  to  ask  when  the  Kaeo 
would  sail,  and  finally  I  expressed,  very  humbly, 
my  desire  to  visit  Fagatau. 

Captain  Winnifred  Brander  of  the  Kaeo  looked 
surprised,  and  sitting  back  in  his  chair  (how  im- 
pressive a  man  of  fifty  looks  when  he  has  reached 
an  agreeable  state  of  embonpoint  and  he  wears  a 
large,  kindly  moustache!)  expressed  well-bred  sur- 
prise at  my  desiring  to  visit  the  Paumotus,  and 
especially  Fagatau. 

He  said  that  possibly  he  might  call  at  Fagatau 
during  the  next  few  months,  but  he  was  not  at  all 


OFF  TO  THE  PAUMOTUS  85 

sure.  Hence  I  had  to  strain  myself  to  become 
agreeable  to  him  and  even  mentioned  that  I  would 
make  the  Kaeo  immortal  by  writing  about  her. 
This  was  weak,  for  was  not  the  Kaeo  already  im- 
mortal? However,  Captain  Brander,  or,  as  he  is 
more  lovingly  called,  "  Winny,"  agreed  to  take  me, 
and  his  ship  would  sail  "  next  week."  I  believed 
him  and  made  my  plans  accordingly.  I  attended 
several  farewell  parties  and  while  we  are  waiting 
for  the  Kaeo  to  sail,  it  might  be  a  good  idea  to 
tell  you  about  a  modern  Tahitian  party  or  hula- 
hula. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  HULA-HULA 

IN  the  old  days,  before  the  dawn  of  uncivilization 
in  the  Cook  and  Society  Islands,  and  before  the 
"  White  Peril "  became  a  grim  reality,  it  was  the 
custom  amongst  the  people,  who  formed  an 
eminently  aristocratic  society,  to  have  feasts  and 
entertainments.  There  were  many  excuses  for 
such — the  celebration  of  a  victory,  or  the  arrival 
of  a  guest  of  note  at  once  caused  a  polite  man  to 
arrange  an  entertainment.  And  this  did  not  con- 
sist in  mere  feeding  as  amongst  more  barbarous 
races;  for  Tahitian  society  boasted  the  existence 
of  a  weird  society  of  dancing,  acting,  speechify- 
ing, and  unmoral  scoundrels  who  were  called 
Areois.  They  were  a  species  of  court  jester 
although  their  position  in  society  was  second  only 
to  the  chief  who  himself  was  sometimes  an  Areoi. 
There  were  many  rules  regulating  this  society  or 
caste,  but  chief  amongst  these  was  an  absolute 
prohibition  against  a  member  having  a  living 
descendant.  Hence  the  wives  of  Areois  killed 
their  babies  the  moment  they  were  born.  The 
Areois  were  tremendously  fashionable;  so  plainer 
men  followed  their  strange  example,  and  but  few 

86 


THE  HULA-HULA  87 

babies  were  allowed  to  live  more  than  two  or 
three  seconds.  I  suppose  nature  took  this  strange 
course  in  order  to  prevent  over-population — a 
very  real  danger  on  an  island  practically  cut  off 
from  the  rest  of  the  world.  The  farmer  class— 
the  raatiras — hated  the  Areois,  because  they  were 
compelled  to  supply  all  their  food  and  were  paid 
by  not  being  used  as  human  sacrifices.  But  we 
have  not  time  to  study  the  Areois. 

An  old  Tahitian  feast  must  have  been  highly 
interesting.  The  Areois  produced  plays  consist- 
ing largely  of  monologues  in  which  the  leading 
actor  jeered  at  the  priests  and  religion  be- 
ing, it  is  alleged,  quite  amusing.  There  was  no 
intoxicating  drink,  but  before  the  end  of  the 
performance  the  audience  would  always  be  worked 
up  to  a  high  pitch  of  excitement  and  enjoyment. 
One  has  sometimes  heard  a  young  person  at  home 
remark  that  she  laughed  so  much  that  she  cried. 
The  Tahitians  used  to  weep  with  happiness  also 
but  in  order  to  develop  their  joy  to  the  crying- 
point  they  used  neat  little  sticks  fitted  with  sharks' 
teeth  with  which  they  scraped  their  faces.  I  dare 
say  they  groaned  the  next  day. 

For  the  feast  many  pigs  were  killed,  and 
chickens  for  the  women  and  lower  classes.  No 
Tahitian  gentleman  would  eat  a  chicken.  The 
wives  of  the  Areois  assisted  in  the  performance 
which  was  often  of  an  extremely  immodest  char- 
acter. The  missionaries  did  not  dare  to  describe 


88  TAHITI  DAYS 

the  performance  in  English;  but  I  believe  they 
wrote  a  full  detailed  description  in  Latin.  I  have 
heard  that  this  can  be  found  in  the  British 
Museum.  I  haven't  searched  myself. 

The  women  of  course  danced — the  "hula- 
hula,3'  which  one  sees  in  a  very  mild  form  on  the 
music  hall  stage  of  America,  and  which  can  be 
seen  in  Honolulu  if  you  are  willing  to  pay  ten 
dollars.  But  the  Honolulu  performance  differs 
considerably  from  the  music  hall  performance. 
The  former  is  very  realistic  and  historically  cor- 
rect. Of  course  it  is  the  old  wriggling  business 
which  one  cannot  describe  nicely  without  a  knowl- 
edge of  anatomy. 

Still  I  am  assured  by  my  old  friend  Tati,  the 
son  of  a  converted  Areoi,  that  there  was  a  good 
deal  that  was  dignified  about  the  old  Tahitian 
feast.  He  thought  that  it  was  very  like  a  High- 
land Scotch  dinner  party;  but  he  omitted  to  men- 
tion dates,  so  perhaps  he  is  right.  Incidentally, 
the  upper  classes,  apart  from  the  Areois,  never 
joined  in  the  performance.  The  aristocratic 
women,  and  there  were  such,  thoroughly  enjoyed 
the  spectacle  but  never  dreamt  of  dancing  them- 
selves. To  a  white  man  of  virtue  the  whole  thing 
must  have  looked  inexpressibly  vulgar,  though  not 
nearly  so  vulgar  nor  so  irresistibly  comic  as  a 
modern  waltz  or  fox-trot  appears  to  a  native  even 
today. 

I  don't  think  it  is  at  all  possible  to  get  much 


THE  HULA-HULA  89 

idea  of  old  Tahitian  customs  by  observation  today. 
The  old  aristocratic  blue  blood  has  become  hope- 
lessly mixed  with  European  blood  of  a  vastly  dif- 
ferent hue,  and  the  people  that  are  left,  though 
still  very  lovable,  are  a  poor  lot  as  compared  with 
their  ancestors.  Sometimes  one  comes  across  a 
glorious  old  native,  and  perhaps  a  young  one, 
beautiful  as  the  gods,  but  not  often.  More 
frequently  the  native  crouching  in  the  Chinese 
store  is  as  much  like  his  ancestor  as  a  modern 
Norwegian  resembles  a  picture  of  a  Viking. 

Still  an  observer  crammed  with  "  Captain  Cook's 
Voyages  "  and  some  old  missionary  journals  can 
sometimes  detect  little  points  of  resemblance,  and 
today  in  Tahiti  one  often  sees  the  survival  of  at 
least  the  dancing  portion  of  the  old  native  en- 
tertainment. There  are  many  hundreds  of  girls 
and  women  who  can  dance  just  as  their  ances- 
tresses danced.  And  there  are  scores  of  boys 
who  can  assist  them  efficiently. 

But  let  me  tell  you  about  the  hula-hula  that 
formed  part  of  my  farewell  party.  I  hope  and 
pray  that  no  ancient  missionary  shades  were  pres- 
ent; they'd  have  had  to  write  in  Latin  if  they 
wanted  to  describe  it.  Still,  I  will  be  truthful— 
up  to  a  point. 

Had  the  host  been  a  native  of  rank  I  dare 
say  the  performance  might  have  been  different. 
Still,  in  his  arrangements  he  was  ably  assisted  by 
two  half-caste  women  of  great  kindness  of  heart 


90  TAHITI  DAYS 

and  even  more  discernment.  During  the  after- 
noon, these  two,  assisted  by  their  husbands  and 
descendants,  had  gathered  large  quantities  of  trop- 
ical blossoms.  The  graceful  fronds  of  the  cocoa- 
nut  palms  were  also  recruited,  so  that  finally  the 
little  ne-au  shack,  with  its  two  wide  verandas, 
suggested  a  fairy  bower. 

The  host  ordered  a  large  demijohn  of  white 
wine,  six  dancing  girls,  a  pig,  and  large  quanti- 
ties of  oranges,  bananas,  pineapples,  and  bread- 
fruit, also  various  wines  and  liqueurs.  He  felt 
proud  of  his  arrangements,  and  when  darkness 
came,  and  the  candles  commenced  to  twinkle  midst 
the  blood-red  hibiscus  blossoms  and  delicate  little 
pink  roses,  he  felt  that  his  pride  was  justified. 
On  the  verandas  were  hung  great  lamps  with 
soft  lemon-coloured  shades  shedding  a  gentle  light 
on  the  baskets  of  deep  green  ferns  that  were 
suspended  from  the  roof;  and  when  a  full  moon 
commenced  to  shine  on  the  lagoon  around,  the 
setting  for  a  delightful  party  seemed  complete. 
Even  the  two  half-castes,  accustomed  to  the  beauty 
of  Tahiti,  expressed  pleasure. 

These  two  had  been  busily  squeezing  dozens  of 
oranges  into  a  great  white  basin  until  the  golden 
fluid  bore  on  its  surface  dozens  of  little  white 
pips.  They  hung  together  in  bunches.  The  two 
women  sat  at  the  table  with  their  soft  sweet  faces 
framed  in  masses  of  coal-black  hair  and,  when 
the  last  great  yellow  orange  had  been  squeezed, 


THE  HULA-HULA  91 

they  called  the  host.  They  then  watched  with 
kindly  interest  while  he  poured  into  the  basin  two 
bottles  of  gin.  It  was  very  bad  gin — it  tasted 
like  paraffin  when  taken  neat — but  it  was  the  best 
to  be  obtained  in  Papeete.  A  large  bottle  of  gren- 
adine followed  the  gin,  and  several  bottles  of 
muscatel.  Finally  two  blocks  of  ice  were  placed 
in  the  basin,  and  with  a  large  spoon  the  two 
women  stirred  it  up.  There  was  still  the  large 
demijohn  of  white  wine  to  be  accounted  for,  but 
only  a  portion  of  this  was  placed  with  the  mixture, 
since  many  guests  were  expected.  Nevertheless, 
the  punch  was  extremely  potent — it  tasted  inno- 
cent enough — for  two  glasses  made  the  host  almost 
brilliant,  he  said. 

This  white  man  was  very  young  and  inno- 
cent for  his  age.  He  had  never  eaten  of 
the  lotus. 

Having  attended  to  the  wine,  the  women  com- 
menced arranging  the  supper  table,  and  very  soon 
it  was  covered  with  all  kinds  of  jolly  things- 
cold  portions  of  the  pig,  large  cream-coloured 
breadfruit,  pohi  (native  pudding),  and  some  good- 
looking  cakes  that  Lavina  had  made  with  her 
own  hands.  There  were  of  course  lots  of  other 
things  too  numerous  and  ordinary  to  mention. 

The  white  man  had  not  long  to  wait  for  his 
guests.  He  was  alone  when  they  arrived,  for 
the  two  women  had  returned  to  their  houses  to 
see  that  their  children  were  safely  in  bed.  The 


92  TAHITI  DAYS 

first  sign  of  their  approach  was  conveyed  to  him 
by  the  sound  of  male  and  female  voices  crooning 
native  lullabys  accompanied  by  a  guitar.  Finally 
an  old  chestnut  horse,  driven  by  Va-va,  the  deaf 
and  dumb  hired  man  from  Lavina's,  slowly  plodded 
its  weary  way  up  the  avenue  of  mock-cpffee  trees, 
bearing  about  six  cheerful  young  men  and  women, 
all  clothed  in  snowy  white.  The  boys  were  dressed 
like  Hawaiians,  and  looked  almost  as  futile  as 
those  seen  in  New  York  and  Philadelphia.  Mur- 
muring a  native  greeting,  they  shook  hands  with 
their  host  and  after  looking  shyly  around  them 
they  sat  down  and  said  nothing.  They  continued 
to  sit  like  this  until  "  Henry  Ford  "  assisted  by  an 
accordion,  produced  more  music  and  the  six  danc- 
ing girls  piloted  by  Johnnie  Lavina.  They  were 
followed  by  other  guests  including  several  aristo- 
cratic Tahitians.  You  can  never  mistake  a 
Tahitian  aristocrat,  especially  a  woman.  She  has 
an  air,  a  presence — something  undefinable  that 
marks  her.  I  knew  a  princess  once — but  that  is 
another  story. 

Finally  the  party  looked  complete,  but  the  host 
thought  it  might  be  almost  a  funeral,  judging  by 
the  solemnity  of  the  guests.  But  soon  one  little 
girl — she  was  about  sixteen — showed  signs  of 
cheerfulness.  She  commenced  dancing,  and  a  boy 
helped  her  with  an  accordion,  but  the  others 
seemed  hardly  interested,  so  she  had  another  drink 
much  to  the  surprise  of  the  white  man.  It  was 


MAXU 

Manu  was  Ti-ti's  sister.  She  was 
one  of  the  half-caste  women  de- 
scribed in  the  preparations  for  the 
Hula-Hula,  squeezing  dozens  of 
oranges  for  the  punch.  She  is 
wearing  here  a  tafefa  and  an  In- 
dian head-dress  given  to  me  by  an 
American  Sioux  Indian  of  Devil's 
I>ake,  North  Dakota. 


Tl-TI,   MY  LANDLADY 

Obviously,  this  is  a  studio  por- 
trait. I  Insert  it,  however,  to 
show  you  the  effect  of  French 
Mood  meeting  that  of  Tahiti.  I 
have  seen  Ti-ti  look  more  beau- 
tiful, but  never  so  steady. 


THE   LAGOON    THIRTY    MILES   FROM    PAPEETE 

One   of  the   picturesque   spots   in   which   the    island   abounds, 
mountains  combine   in  a  scene  of  impressive   splendour. 


Clouds,    sea   and 


Copyright,  Kroepelein 


THE  SOURCE  OF  THE  VAITUORU 


The  high  mountains  of  Tahiti,  often  covered  with  rain  clouds  while 
the  lowlands  round  the  coast  are  basking  in  sunshine,  supply  the 
many  valleys  that  wander  down  to  the  sea  with  a  plentiful  supply 
of  water. 


MAOU 

There's  nothing  happens  on  Tahiti 
but  what  Maou  knows  all  about 
it.  There's  absolutely  nothing  on 
the  island  from  a  dancing-girl  to 
a  schooner  that  Maou  cannot  pro- 
cure for  you.  It's  just  a  matter 
of  asking.  He  is  an  interesting 
type,  since  he  shows  a  combina- 
tion of  Spanish  with  Tahitian 
blood. 


TE.NUAHA ABTI1UB    ESTALL    fils 

Tenuaha  was  greatly  interested  in 
my  uniform  which  he  found  inside 
my  fare.  It  pleased  him  to  be 
allowed  to  wear  it,  and  was  de- 
lighted when  I  offered  to  photo- 
graph him. 


Copyright,  Kroefelein 
A   GROUP  OF  TAHITIANS 

Although  these  men  look  healthy  enough,  I  insert  this  picture  here  since  one 
of  the  men — the  fellow  on  the  extreme  right  front — shows  what  civilization 
can  do.  Such  a  man,  hollow  chested — pathetic  in  feature,  could  not  have 
existed  a  hundred  years  age. 


THE   LEPER   STATION   ON   TAHITI 

This,  the  saddest  portion  of  the  Island,  is  situated  on  the  road  to  Papenoo,  some  ten 
miles  from  Papeete.  The  building  on  the  left  is  the  Roman  Catholic  chapel,  that  on 
the  right  the  Protestant.  It  must  be  admitted  that  the  lepers  don't  seem  greatly 
troubled  about  their  state.  An  average  of  sixty  or  so  inmates  is  maintained.  They 
marry  and  have  children.  It  is  said  that  the  children,  taken  away  at  once,  show  no 
signs  of  the  disease. 


THE  HULA-HULA  93 

her  sixth!  Still  the  guests  sat  looking  shy  and 
uncomfortable. 

The  host  confided  his  fears  as  to  the  success  of 
the  party  to  the  half-caste  women,  saying,  "  I 
say,  don't  you  think  we'd  better  give  'em  a  little 
food?  It'll  perk  'em  up  a  bit — make  'em  feel  a 
little  bit  more  sociable;  what!" 

The  two  half-castes  merely  smiled  and  handed 
around  more  and  more  punch. 

4  You've  got  to  work  'em  up ;  it's  always  like 
this  to  start  with,"  offered  Johnnie  with  an  in- 
imitable shake  of  his  shoulders,  and  with  an  eYi- 
gaging  smile,  as  he  bustled  about  making  wreaths 
for  himself  and  friends  from  the  decorations. 

Finally  the  girl,  whose  visits  to  the  punch  bowl 
had  been  noted  by  the  host,  commenced  the 
wriggling  business  again,  and  with  much  more 
success,  but  still  most  of  the  others  looked  a  little 
solemn.  Finally  it  dawned  upon  the  conscious- 
ness of  the  white  man  that  before  things  began 
to  move  really,  all  the  dancing  girls  would  have 
to  be  made  drunk. 

So  this  was  done. 

It  was  interesting  to  watch  the  little  party  and 
especially  the  aristocrats.  With  a  haughty,  yet 
friendly  air  they  sat  apart  observing  all  and 
enjoying  themselves  apparently,  but  never  dream- 
ing of  dancing  themselves,  or  mixing  in  the  slight- 
est degree  with  the  others. 

The  job  of  making  the  girls  and  young  men 


94  TAHITI  DAYS 

drunk  was  less  difficult  than  was  at  first  expected 
by  the  half-castes.  The  punch  was  deceptive  and 
a  few  glasses  each  put  the  very  devil  into  the  per- 
formers. 

Soon  the  little  fare  was  a  scene  of  liveliness 
and  mad  caperings.  In  every  corner  couples  were 
dancing  and  always  ending  with  a  quick  staccato 
movement  which  brought  roars  of  laughter  from 
every  one. 

In  native  dancing  a  couple  does  not  embrace 
as  we  embrace  when  waltzing.  They  stand  oppo- 
site each  other  and  wriggle  at  one  another.  Some- 
times they  seem  to  compete — to  see  who  can 
wriggle  the  fastest. 

A  peaceful -young  man  may  be  sitting  quietly, 
when  suddenly  a  young  lady  will  eye  him,  and 
dance  at  him,  until  amidst  roars  of  laughter  he 
accepts  the  challenge  and  dances  at  her.  When  a 
white  man  is  challenged  he  generally  gets  up  but 
invariably  looks  a  perfect  fool. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  hour  things  began  to 
look  quite  serious.  A  Swede,  having  threatened 
to  get  drunk,  kept  his  promise  and  commenced 
making  heavy  love  to  a  charming  aristocratic  half- 
caste  girl  who  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  experience. 
Everybody  seemed  happy,  for  all  except  the 
aristocrats  and  an  old  man  called  Moe  had  at- 
tained a  state  of  "  brilliance."  Moe  had  been 
ordered  to  remain  sober  because  his  wife  owned 
the  house  and  she  felt  a  little  nervous  about  fire. 


THE  HULA-HULA  95 

As  the  men  and  maidens  grew  drunker  they 
covered  themselves  with  more  and  more  of  the 
decorations.  "  Johnnie "  imagined  himself  a 
Greek  god,  and  commenced  capering  from  room 
to  room  looking  over  his  shoulder  in  quite  an 
engaging  manner.  One  stout  girl  with  a  little 
negro  blood  in  her  veins  and  two  front  teeth  miss- 
ing (her  late  husband)  sat  on  a  steamer  chair  and 
sang  ribald  French  songs  in  an  irresistibly  comic 
manner.  I  believe  she  was  sitting  on  a  youth,  but 
you  could  not  see  him.  At  any  rate  she  was  ad- 
dressing some  one  hidden  near  her,  very  tenderly 
calling  him,  or  it,  "  ma  schweet  'art."  The  girls 
were  all  dressed  in  cool  white  flowing  robes,  but 
in  order  to  dance  more  decently,  or  indecently, 
they  hobbled  their  skirts  with  ribbons  or  strands 
of  cocoanut  palm. 

The  lady  with  the  few  teeth  danced  beautifully 
whenever  she  gained  enough  energy  to  rise  from 
her  chair  but  she  looked  a  little  bit  horrible,  I 
thought. 

It  may  be  stated  to  the  host's  credit  that  at  this 
time  his  "brilliance"  had  completely  worn  off; 
and  he  hated  seeing  the  girls  so  drunk. 

"  Let's  have  a  bite  to  eat  now,  what! "  he  said, 
pointing  to  the  table  covered  with  good  things. 
The  girls  were  getting  so  very  drunk,  and  he 
thought  a  little  food  might  sober  them  up. 

But  this  was  an  effect  not  desired  by  either  the 
aristocrats  nor  the  two  half-caste  women.  In  fact, 


96  TAHITI  DAYS 

the  desired  condition  of  madness  had  been  reached 
and  it  were  a  pity  to  spoil  it.  And  so  the  hula- 
hula  continued.  And  you  who  read  this  may  say, 
"How  very  vulgar!  But  why  write  about  these 
things."  And  I  reply,  "  Because  I  get  thoroughly 
tired  of  the  '  lotus  eating '  sweet  melancholy  rub- 
bish that  is  written  about  the  South  Seas."  Of 
course  I  might  have  confined  myself  to  a  descrip- 
tion of  that  lovely  tropical  night,  the  great  big 
moon  amidst  the  fleecy  clouds,  the  lagoon,  the  reef 
in  the  distance  with  its  dozens  of  twinkling  fisher- 
men's torches — or  perhaps  the  soft  voices  of  the 
girls  and  boys  singing  to  the  guitar.  For  amidst 
all  there  was  much  that  was  truly  lovely. 

But  to  me  there  was  little  really  amusing  about 
the  entertainment — just  a  common  drunken  party 
made  a  little  bearable  by  the  setting  and  the 
natural  charm  of  the  characters;  but  a  drunken 
party,  nevertheless,  at  which  the  drunkest  were 
six  Tahitian  girls. 

The  youngest  and  the  drunkest  was  sixteen. 
She  gabbled  in  Tahitian,  French  and  English,  and 
finally  shrieked  for  water.  "  Gimme  warter— 
gimme  warter,"  she  shouted.  She  had  possibly 
been  drinking  for  several  years  and  would  con- 
tinue to  drink  until  the  end,  which  will  perhaps  be 
consumption,  perhaps  an  impossible  disease,  or 
even  a  long  drawn-out  death  of  thirty  or  forty 
years  in  a  little  settlement  about  ten  miles  from 
Papeete  on  the  way  to  Papenoo  where  there  are 


THE  HULA-HULA  97 

two  white  churches,  and  where  the  seventy  or  so 
odd  souls  lurk  behind  their  houses  when  they 
hear  the  throb  of  a  motor  or  the  quick  step  of  a 
horse,  fearing  to  show  themselves.  It  is  called  the 
Leper  Station. 

And  yet  native  dancing  can  be  interesting  and 
beautiful  and  not  at  all  indecent. 

At  about  eleven-thirty  the  aristocrats  decided 
that  it  was  time  to  sup,  but  the  dancers  could  eat 
but  little.  "  Gimme  warter — I  want  drink 
warter,"  they  said  mostly,  for  they  were  suffering 
with  a  great  thirst.  Some  of  the  boys  had  fallen 
about  the  rooms  and  were  sleeping.  Moe,  the 
man  in  charge  of  the  lights,  sat  on  the  veranda 
rail  looking  amused  and  curious,  as  a  native  should 
look. 

Finally  at  a  little  after  twelve  o'clock  several 
automobiles  arrived  and  the  guests  were  bundled 
unwillingly  into  these.  They  all  wanted  to  stay 
forever,  they  said;  but  the  two  half-caste  women 
managed  the  business,  and,  singing  and  shouting, 
they  were  soon  hurled  back  to  Papeete. 

The  party  was  considered  by  all  to  be  a  great 
success.  Lavina  said  next  day  with  her  kindly 
smile,  "  Johnnie  says  that  the  party  was  the  best 
he  has  ever  attended,  no  one  drunk,  plenty  of  good 
food  and  altogether  jolly  and  nice." 

But  the  host  was  not  at  all  sure.  Perhaps  he 
thought  a  little  as  the  last  guest  was  bundled 
into  the  motors;  perhaps  he  felt  even  ashamed. 


98  TAHITI  DAYS 

And  so  the  "  White  Peril "  of  the  South  Seas 
is  a  grim  reality  and  slowly  but  surely  we  are  eat- 
ing them  up.  It  is  a  pity  really,  for  a  more 
charming  race  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  it  would 
be  difficult  to  find.  Some  say  the  missionaries  of 
the  past  made  them  hypocrites,  but  I  have  an 
insistent  idea  that  the  missionaries  are  responsible 
for  much  that  is  charming  and  delightful  in  their 
character. 

It  is,  I  suppose,  a  matter  of  values  and  muslin. 
White  embroidered  linen  and  coloured  muslin  are 
very  desirable  in  the  eyes  of  the  Tahitian  lady. 
The  man  of  her  own  race  will  never  give  her 
much  of  these.  "  Good  gracious !  why  should 
I?"  he  thinks.  And  at  the  bottom  she  loves  him 
best;  and  will  return  to  him. 

I  suppose  it  is  now  impossible  to  prevent  the 
cold  blooded  murder  of  this  fine  race,  for  steamers 
trading  through  the  Panama  Canal  to  Australia 
make  Papeete  more  and  more  a  port  of  call  for 
coal.  Hence  the  little  French  town  will  become 
like  Port  Said,  a  sink  of  filthiness  and  horror. 

Perhaps  rigid  education  would  help;  perhaps 
the  formation  of  a  young  Tahitian  party  with 
definite  aims  to  save  the  race  might  do  something; 
but  then  the  natives  are  so  agreeable.  They  will 
pray  with  you  just  as  fervently  as  they  will  dance 
with  you — but  one  never  knows. 

At  the  moment  one  sees  drunken  firemen  and 
intoxicated  sailors  walking  off  with  snowy  robed 


THE  HULA-HULA  99 

young  girls.  For  her  it  is  a  matter  of  luck;  she 
may  have  the  captain  the  next  day,  and  I  wonder 
if  he  knows  that  we  beach  combers  will  hear  all 
the  details  of  the  romance  the  next  day,  while  he 
is  steaming  home  to  his  loving  wife  and  family. 

And  so  this  mad  South  Sea  hula-hula  con- 
tinues— this  mad  dance  of  death  goes  on.  Men 
despise  the  native,  and  eat  his  wife  and  daughter; 
and  be  it  whispered  gently,  the  native  does  not 
mind — very  much — just  a  little,  sometimes. 

And  my  recollection  of  the  party  is  perhaps 
summed  up  in  the  words  of  the  poor  native  girl 
as  she  leant  over  the  veranda  railing,  '  You 
gimme  warter — I  warnt  warter." 

Could  we  give  them  a  little  water — just  a  little 
pure  water! 

We  white  men! 


CHAPTER  X 

BOARDING  THE  TEREORA 

BEFORE  I  digressed  into  my  impressions  of  a 
modern  hula-hula,  I  think  that  I  had  commenced  a 
period  of  waiting  for  the  Kaeo  to  sail  "  next  week." 
I  used  to  visit  her  daily  and  I  always  found  Cap- 
tain Brander  charming  and  polite,  but  just  as 
confident  that  she  would  sail  shortly  as  the  super- 
cargo, owner,  and  "  chef  mechanicien "  were 
certain  that  many  days  would  elapse  before  the 
Kaeo  finally  left  Papeete. 

The  situation  was  trying  and  most  people  urged 
me  to  remain  in  Tahiti  amongst  my  friends.  If 
you  go  to  the  Paumotus,  you'll  have  a  horrid 
time;  there's  no  water,  no  fruit  except  the  cocoa- 
nut,  and  you  may  be  stranded  on  a  circular  reef 
of  coral  for  months,"  they  said.  But  having  prom- 
ised Tenuaha,  and  feeling  certain  that  I  would 
have  an  instructive  if  not  an  amusing  time  I  kept 
firmly  to  my  intention. 

But  the  days  passed  into  weeks,  and  since  it  was 
essential  that  I  should  be  back  in  Papeete  to  catch 
the  Moana  for  San  Francisco  at  the  end  of  two 
months,  I  had  little  time  to  spare. 

But  one  fine  day  there  arrived  from  the  Mar- 

100 


BOARDING  THE  TEREORA       101 

quesas  and  Paumotus  the  Tereora — a  smart-look- 
ing schooner  built  by  Charles  Bailey  in  New  Zea- 
land— with  Captain  Joseph  Winchester  in  com- 
mand. I  met  him  one  day  at  the  club,  and  hearing 
of  my  projected  trip  to  the  Paumotus,  he  at  once 
offered  to  take  me  in  his  schooner.  "  I  will  be 
leaving  in  precisely  ten  days,  and  although 
'  Winny '  may  get  away  before  that  time,  I  guar- 
antee to  get  to  Hikuero  before  him,"  he  said.  The 
idea  seemed  attractive,  but  I  expressed  doubts 
about  cancelling  my  passage  with  "  Winny."  I 
had  managed  to  attain  a  stately  friendship  with 
that  individual,  and  I  shuddered  at  the  idea  of  ap- 
proaching his  grand  moustache  and  benevolent 
presence  to  mention  that,  under  the  circumstances, 
I  had  decided  to  sail  on  his  rival  ship,  the  Tereora. 
I  expressed  these  doubts  to  Captain  Joe,  but  he 
merely  laughed,  saying,  "  Oh,  Winny  won't  mind, 
nothing  worries  him."  Nevertheless  it  was  with 
diffidence  that  I  approached  Winny.  He  put 
me  at  ease  in  a  few  seconds.  "  Don't  you  worry," 
he  said ;  "  you'll  be  very  comfortable  with  Joe,  and 
he  has  forgotten  more  than  I  ever  knew  about  the 
Paumotus;  come  and  have  a  drink." 

And  so  it  was  arranged  that  I  should  travel  on 
the  Tereora;  and,  true  to  his  word,  Captain  Joe 
was  ready  to  sail  precisely  ten  days  from  the  date 
of  his  arrival. 

He  ordered  me  to  be  on  board  at  ten-thirty 
A.M.,  and  half  an  hour  before  that  time,  accom- 


102  TAHITI  DAYS 

panied  by  Hototu,  Ina,  Te-te,  Manu,  Kroepilin, 
Olson,  and  a  few  others,  I  reached  the  breast- 
work where  the  Tereora  was  getting  ready  to  de- 
part. Ina  had  brought  a  huge  bunch  of  flowers, 
Hototu  had  brought  mangoes  and  pineapples, 
Te-te  had  brought  limes,  while  Manu  had  carried, 
with  some  difficulty,  a  large  string  of  oranges. 

Having  been  assured  that  I  had  at  least  thirty 
minutes  to  spare,  I  took  all  the  women  on  board  to 
see  my  quarters.  They  spread  themselves  about  the 
little  cabin  and  compelled  Willie,  the  supercargo, 
to  procure  a  large  kerosene  tin  to  place  the  flowers 
in.  Willie  despised  the  flowers,  and  expressed 
some  annoyance,  with  the  result  that  all  the 
women  turned  on  him  and  commenced  to  assail 
him  with  epithets.  It  was  an  unequal  contest. 

The  preliminary  part  of  a  native  conversation 
of  this  nature  consists  in  hurling  quick  comic 
remarks  at  one's  opponents.  These  soon  develop, 
until  one's  father,  mother  and  ancestors,  together 
with  one's  descendants  down  to  the  third  and 
fourth  generation  come  in  for  their  share  of  abuse. 
Dreadful,  comic,  unprintable  remarks  flow  from 
the  lips  of  otherwise  respectable  women.  Still 
remarks  can  be  made  in  Tahitian,  which  in  Eng- 
lish are  unprintable. 

It  was  with  some  difficulty,  therefore,  that  I 
managed  to  get  the  women  ashore  again.  They 
all  appeared  miserable — that  species  of  sad- 
ness that  approaches  happiness.  A  parting  de- 


BOARDING  THE  TEREORA        103 

velops  emotion;  in  common  with  death,  tragedies 
and  weddings,  a  farewell  always  forms  a  ceremony 
to  a  Tahitian.  In  the  old  days  one  used  the  rod 
with  shark's  teeth,  but  the  dawn  of  Christianity 
has  banished  this  practice. 

A  hundred  years  or  so  ago  a  Spanish  priest 
with  one  companion  had  been  left  alone  on  Tahiti. 
The  idea  had  been,  not  only  to  convert  the  natives, 
but  to  establish  Tahiti  as  a  colony  for  the  King 
of  Spain.  The  priests  hated  the  experiment,  and 
remained  inside  their  palisade  in  deadly  fear,  while 
watching  through  the  chinks  the  heathen  cere- 
monies which  included,  occasionally,  a  human  sac- 
rifice or  two.  One  day  a  young  chief  died,  and 
during  the  funeral  ceremony  his  mother  solemnly 
walked  on  to  the  marai,  and  baring  her  body,  much 
to  the  admiration  of  her  friends  and  relations,  com- 
menced to  scratch  her  body  with  the  shark's  teeth. 
This  was  the  supreme  moment  of  the  funeral  cere- 
mony, and  the  natives,  numbering  many  thousands, 
knelt  in  solemn  prayer,  while  the  old  lady  did  her 
normal  duty.  The  congregation  had  attained  a 
high  state  of  sanctity,  all  were  visibly  affected, 
when  the  Spanish  priest  ran  through  the  crowd, 
up  onto  the  marai,  and  said :  "  You  foolish  woman, 
whatever  are  you  doing?  Your  behaviour  is  neither 
seemly  nor  respectable." 

They  did  not  kill  the  priest,  but  having  driven 
him  back  into  his  house,  they  commenced  to  pray 
that  the  mad  spirit  possessing  him  might  be  driven 


104  TAHITI  DAYS 

out,  and  the  ceremony  ended  to  the  satisfaction  of 
all. 

Finally  the  Tereora  drew  a  few  yards  away 
from  the  breastwork,  and  while  anchors  were  being 
hauled  in  and  safely  stowed,  I  watched  my  friends 
who  were  standing  on  the  breastwork.  Te-te,  my 
landlady,  seemed  most  affected.  She  wore  a  long 
flowing  pink  muslin  gown;  her  beautiful  dark  hair 
was  braided,  being  kept  in  place  by  a  large  bow  of 
white  ribbon  which  appeared  behind  her  neck.  In 
spite  of  her  forty  odd  years  she  looked  charming. 
But  what  disturbed  me  most  about  Te-te  was  that 
she  wore  corsets.  This  was  a  bad  omen,  for  I  had 
never  known  Te-te  to  wear  corsets  for  anything 
less  than  a  funeral,  or  perhaps  high  mass  on  Christ- 
mas Day. 

The  Tereora  was  just  far  enough  away  from  the 
breastwork  to  make  possible  the  utterance  of  that 
futile  form  of  conversation  which  takes  place  be- 
tween friends  just  before  a  train  draws  out  of  a 
station  or  when  a  liner  moves  from  a  dock.  One 
shouts  inane  remarks — highly  unnecessary — and 
one's  friends  reply  in  a  similar  strain.  On  the 
Tereora  these  moments  were  long  and  drawn  out, 
for  there  is  much  to  do  before,  free  from  her  lines 
and  hawsers,  a  schooner  can  pass  across  the  lagoon, 
through  the  passage  in  the  reef  and  out  amongst 
the  breakers  where  the  sorrow  of  parting  is 
drowned  in  the  horror  of  seasickness,  and  one 
merely  longs  for  dry  land. 


BOARDING  THE  TEEEOEA        105 

The  departure  of  the  Tereora  created  little 
sensation  amongst  the  inhabitants  of  Papeete,  and 
a  heavy  shower  of  rain  drove  my  friends  off  to  a 
nearby  veranda  from  which  conversation  became 
impossible. 

After  a  time  my  friends  walked  off  waving 
good-byes  and  I  descended  into  my  state-room — 
the  captain's — and  commenced  to  arrange  my  per- 
sonal effects.  This  was  difficult,  for  it  seemed  to 
me  that  all  the  magazines  in  the  world  had  been 
flung  on  to  the  bunk,  and  piled  on  the  floor  in 
every  odd  corner.  I  managed,  however,  to  dis- 
cover a  pair  of  khaki  shorts,  and  these  with  a  silk 
shirt  formed  my  only  clothing.  I  went  on  deck  to 
be  greeted  kindly  by  Captain  Joe. 

"  Well,  Lieutenant,  make  yourself  at  home,  the 
ship's  yours,"  he  remarked. 

"  We  are  in  the  hands  of  God,"  I  thought  as  I 
saw  huge  waves  smashing  themselves  onto  the 
reef. 

Finally  Willie,  the  supercargo,  who  up  to  the 
present  had  been  performing  a  duet  with  the  cap- 
tain upon  the  auditory  nerves  of  the  crew,  caused 
a  shrill  whistle  to  blow,  the  engine  commenced 
making  short  childish  puffs  from  the  side  of  the 
schooner,  and  we  were  off  across  the  smooth 
lagoon. 

But  before  we  get  ouside  the  reef — it  promises 
to  be  difficult  there — let  me  tell  you  about  the 
captain. 


CHAPTER  XI 

CAPTAIN  JOE 

CAPTAIN  JOE  WINCHESTER,  addressed  on  his  let- 
ters as  "  Monsieur  le  Capitaine  Winchester,"  called 
by  his  friends  and  enemies  (if  any)  plain  Joe,  was 
born  near  Birkenhead,  Liverpool,  about  sixty 
years  ago  and  found  himself  leading  a  trying 
existence  as  a  shoeblack  on  the  landing  stage  of 
that  great  seaport. 

Naturally,  so  it  seemed  to  Joe,  this  profession 
led  him  to  sea,  for  after  a  time  he  shipped  as  cabin 
boy  on  a  large  sailing  ship  bound  for  the  Cali- 
fornian  coast.  It  seems  that  as  a  cabin  boy  he 
was  a  failure,  for  one  day  he  found  himself  trying 
to  explain  away  the  badness  of  some  coffee  he 
had  made  for  the  captain.  The  coffee  must  have 
been  bad — Joe  says  it  was  awful — for  the  cap- 
tain called  him  an  unpleasant  group  of  words— 
that  phrase  which  insults  one's  immediate  maternal 
ancestress.  This  enraged  Joe,  for  it  is  a  code  of 
honour  amongst  us  men  never  to  listen  to  a  word 
said  against  our  mothers.  We  may  desert  them, 
leave  them  to  starve,  kill  them — anything;  but  we 
must  not  allow  another  man  to  call  us  the  sons  of 
unpleasant  she  animals. 

106 


CAPTAIN  JOE  107 

So  Joe  picked  up  the  pot  of  coffee,  and  being  at 
close  range,  he  succeeded  in  crashing  it  onto  the 
captain's  head  and  face.  This  action  was  un- 
popular with  the  captain.  His  dignity,  his  head 
and  face  had  been  assailed;  so  Joe  hung  by  the 
thumbs  to  the  rigging.  He  alleges  that  death 
might  have  relieved  him  from  his  agony,  had  not 
an  Irish  second  mate  saved  him.  This  occurred 
about  forty-three  years  ago — before  the  sun  of 
civilization  had  dawned  upon  the  mental  horizon 
of  both  cabin  boys  and  captains.  Nowadays 
cabin  boys  are  called  stewards,  those  individuals 
that  one  detects  upon  liners.  And  hasn't  the  sun 
of  civilization  scorched  the  captains, — some  of 
them !  They  are  called  "  Commanders  "  now,  and 
with  gold  lace  they  radiate  importance  and  patron- 
age. To  sit  beside  the  captain  at  dinner  is  to 
attain  the  very  pinnacle  of  social  importance  at 
sea.  Vaguely,  I  prefer  the  old  savage  cabin  boy 
and  the  rough  and  ready  captain;  but  they  have 
gone  now,  and  it  is  certain  they  will  never  return. 

But  to  return  to  Captain  Joe,  who  is  neither 
savage  nor  magnificent — just  a  kindly,  delightful 
old  liar,  suffering  from  literary  indigestion,  like  a 
lighthouse  keeper  who  reads  all  the  magazines. 
Imagine  eating  all  the  brains  of  all  the  magazine 
writers. 

After  a  time,  and  his  history  is  vague,  Joe 
found  himself  ashore  on  one  of  the  Marquesan 
Islands  well  north  of  Tahiti.  Here  he  was  a 


108  TAHITI  DAYS 

prince  amongst  the  people  and  decided  to  stay. 
He  was  "  fed  up  "  with  the  sea  he  said,  and  if  he 
could  not  be  entertained  by  princesses  and  princes 
of  his  own  blood,  at  least  those  of  the  Marquesan 
Islands  were  disposed  to  be  friendly. 

The  Marquesan  Islands  are  beautiful,  and  the 
inhabitants  unmoral  and  hospitable.  At  home 
a  man  sufficiently  prosperous  supplies  one  with  an 
attendant  to  fold  one's  clothes,  and  to  attend  to 
the  room  generally.  Food  is  supplied  freely;  for 
the  British  heart  is  not  niggardly,  and  except  for 
the  tips  that  one  pays  to  servants,  one  lives  on  one's 
host.  Now  a  Marquesan  was  likewise  hospitable, 
but  he  did  more  than  you  or  I  would  do  for  a 
guest. 

He  gave  you  his  wife,  and  showed  well-bred  an- 
noyance if  you  failed  to  take  her.  They  have 
given  up  this  practice  now  except  to  distinguished 
guests. 

Joe  was  the  only  white  man  in  the  place,  whether 
literally  or  metaphorically  I  am  unable  to  state; 
but  it  might  be  well  to  add  that  upon  our  first 
meeting  Joe  said,  "  Lieutenant,  they  call  me  '  lying 
Joe ' ;  and  I'm  proud  of  the  title." 

He  doesn't  look  a  liar;  and  yet  his  stories 

Nevertheless  his  method  of  dealing  with  his  sub- 
ordinates is  effective.  As  a  rule  kindly,  yet  when 
occasion  demands,  he  goes  straight  for  the  mark. 
Like  an  arrow  shot  by  Robin  Hood  he  slits  the 
willow.  He  can  drink  with  anyone  ashore  without 


A   TAIIIT1AN    MAIDEN    WITH    A    HEAD-DRESS   OF   TIARK   TAHITI 

One  of  the  dancing  girls  in  the  hula-hula,  vivacious,  full  of  smiles 
and  laughter,  but  before  the  end  of  the  dance  rebelled  at  the 
copious  drinks  of  the  native  punch,  calling,  "Gimme  warter — I  wan' 
warter." 


MABFA 

The  appearance  of  Marfa  was  not 
attractive;  her  voice  was  harsh 
and  guttural;  she  was  getting  old, 
but  she  did  what  she  could  with 
her  Jew's  harp.  Without  her  the 
voyage  from  Tahiti  to  Hikuero 
would  have  been  woefully  dull. 


QLOBIANA 

Except,  when  at  night  time,  she 
placed  her  head  on  the  deck 
somewhere,  Gloriana  spent  four- 
teen days  exactly  as  you  see  her 
here.  Behind  her — ropes  and 
bunches  of  ripening  bananas, 
around  her  —  a  heaving  tropical 
head  sea  in  the  grip  of  a  stiff 
trade  wind. 


OX   BOARD  TIIK   "TKRKORA"   IN    MID-OCEAN 

The  photograph  is  not  clear.  But  some  idea  of  the  limited  space  occupied 
by  the  deck  passengers  can  be  obtained.  Marfa  can  be  seen  in  the  immediate 
foreground.  To  her  right  is  one  of  the  deck  boats  in  which  we  endeavoured 
to  isolate  the  young  native  with  the  smallpox. 


CAPTAIN  JOE  109 

apparent  effect,  but  at  sea  never,  except  when  he 
sights  land,  when  he  has  a  tot  of  rum.  His  stories 
were  disappointing,  but  then  his  mental  food  is  fan- 
tastic and  his  appetite  can  only  be  satisfied  by 
reading  magazine  stories.  Living  in  great  cities, 
or  at  least  within  easy  postal  service  of  great 
towns,  you  and  I  can  hardly  appreciate  the  dearth 
of  decent  literature  in  the  South  Seas.  Not  that 
one  regards  the  magazine  stories  as  indecent — 
they  are  decent — but  their  consumption  when  allied 
to  no  other  firmer,  stronger  meat  will  produce  a 
weird  line  of  thought,  just  a  little  weak. 

I  wonder  whether  the  following  story  is  true  or 
whether  Joe  read  it  in  a  magazine.  It  sounds 
like  Euripides,  but  Joe's  education  on  the  landing 
stage  at  Liverpool  was  not  classical. 

A  young  Norwegian  sailor  slipped  ashore  from 
a  whaler  as  she  lay  at  anchor  in  one  of  the  charm- 
ing Marquesan  bays,  and  like  Joe,  decided  to  stay. 
He  found  a  charming  little  wife — the  Marquesans 
are  lightly  built — and  eating  of  the  lotus  he  dwelt 
in  sweet  content  for  some  time,  in  fact  for  two 
years.  But  the  call  of  the  sea  proved  irresistible, 
and  having  presented  his  wife  with  a  promise  to 
return,  and  his  silver  watch  chain,  he  shipped  on 
board  the  first  whaler  that  appeared.  On  the 
watch  chain  dangled  a  silver  locket  with  a  por- 
trait of  his  mother  inside.  You  have  only  to 
gaze  for  a  few  minutes  into  the  showcases  of  the 
local  photographers  in  any  seaport  town,  and  you 


110  TAHITI  DAYS 

will  see  many  seamen  wearing  precisely  the  same 
sort  of  ornament.  One  hand  in  the  trousers  pocket 
draws  aside  the  coat,  and  there,  in  the  middle  of 
him,  hangs  the  locket.  It  is  a  fashion  amongst  sea- 
men, and  it  gives  an  amiable  touch  of  respecta- 
bility. 

The  Marquesan  woman  found  the  ache  at  her 
heart  difficult  to  understand,  for  love  and  animal 
passion  are  separate  in  the  South  Seas;  and  she 
loved  the  Norwegian.  But  the  story  ceases  to 
encircle  around  her.  She  merely  sat  on  the  rocks 
near  her  house  looking  out  towards  the  horizon, 
feeling  very  unhappy,  much  to  the  amusement  of 
her  friends.  She  died  about  six  months  afterwards. 
Which  did  not  really  matter;  for  what  is  a  woman 
in  the  South  Seas?  Thrash  her,  make  her  work; 
treat  her  with  as  little  consideration  as  possible; 
lend  her  to  your  friends  when  you're  drunk,  and 
she  will  cling  to  you  with  strength.  Behave  like 
a  gentleman  to  her — well,  I  don't  know;  I  wonder 
if  the  experiment  has  been  tried.  I  must  admit, 
gently,  that  she  would  find  it  difficult  to  under- 
stand. And  she  might  play  the  devil. 

Years  passed,  ten,  fifteen — and  a  whaler  once 
more  appeared  off  the  same  islands  and  came  to 
rest  in  the  bay  to  hunt  the  sperm  whale.  She 
had  hardly  anchored,  before  a  crowd  of  chatter- 
ing, gossiping,  vivacious  maidens  climbed  up  her 
side  as  an  offering  from  the  chief  to  the  captain 
and  crew.  The  captain  was  given  the  most  hand- 


CAPTAIN  JOE  111 

some,  and  his  choice  fell  upon  a  girl  with  a  mass 
of  yellow  bleached  hair  that  fell  around  her 
shoulders  in  unusual  profusion.  Her  eyes  had  a 
vague  suggestion  of  blue  about  them,  and  alto- 
gether she  was  desirable  in  the  eyes  of  the  captain. 
She  might  have  been  fifteen  years  old,  but  looked 
older,  for  women  develop  early  in  the  South  Seas. 
Her  feet  were  small,  and  her  face  dainty  and  pi- 
quant— of  a  delicious  brown  colour;  but  not  too 
brown.  On  her  head  she  wore  a  wreath  of  white 
blossoms. 

The  captain  congratulated  himself  and  looked 
forward  to  a  happy  three  months.  Strangely 
enough,  she  displayed  a  distaste  for  the  captain, 
and  indeed  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  him. 
She  clung  to  the  rigging  and  resisted  his  attempts 
at  gallantry.  During  the  struggle,  she  bit  him 
so  badly  that  he  was  forced  to  call  the  cabin  boy 
for  a  piece  of  lint.  The  girl  meanwhile  gazed  at 
him  sullenly,  while  her  friends  roared  with  delight 
at  a  situation  so  unusual.  Finally,  as  he  stooped 
to  bind  his  wounded  wrist,  the  girl  made  a  leap, 
and,  before  anyone  could  stop  her,  she  was  over 
the  side.  Diving  deeply,  she  reappeared  on  the 
other  side  of  the  ship  and  commenced  to  swim  for 
the  shore. 

"  Lower  away  a  boat,"  shouted  the  captain, 
now  determined  to  procure  the  girl.  His  manly 
blood  was  up.  "  Good  hunting,"  he  thought. 

The  girl,  like  all  her  race,  was  at  home  in  the 


112  TAHITI  DAYS 

water,  and  indeed  she  might  have  escaped  for  a 
time  if  the  ship  had  not  been  a  whaler  and  dis- 
cipline slacker.  But  a  boat  was  soon  lowered,  and, 
with  the  captain  in  the  stern,  it  soon  came  up  with 
the  little  swimmer  whose  hair  was  flowing  behind 
her  like  seaweed.  When  the  boat  reached  her, 
she  dived,  as  also  did  a  large  Marquesan  shark 
who  was  also  hunting.  The  captain  held  his 
hand  out  ready,  hoping  the  boat  would  frighten 
the  shark,  and  soon  he  could  see  her  form  coming 
rapidly  to  the  surface.  A  few  orders,  and  the 
boat  stood  out  of  her  way,  while  the  captain 
stretched  out  his  hand.  Finally  he  made  a  grab, 
grasped  her  by  the  neck,  felt  something  like  a 
chain  in  his  hands  and  murmured,  "  I've  got  you 
now,  you  vixen,"  but  the  shark  also,  with 
terrific  rapidity,  made  a  quick  motion;  and  the 
shark  had  the  advantage.  The  captain  got  the 
silver  chain,  but  the  shark  ate  the  maiden  with  the 
strange  yellow  hair. 

On  the  chain  was  a  square  locket,  and  inside  the 
locket  was  found  the  face  of  an  old  Norwegian 
lady. 

'  That's  my  mother,"  said  the  captain  as  he 
gave  orders  to  return  to  the  ship.  And  as  he 
climbed  the  rope  ladder  he  muttered  thoughtfully, 
"Well,  I'll  be  damned." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  SCHOONER 

THE  Tereora  is  a  two-masted  schooner  of  about 
one  hundred  tons.  Her  masts  tend  to  be  stumpy 
and  the  absence  of  top  masts  gives  her  a  squat, 
respectable  appearance.  There  is  an  entire  ab- 
sence of  that  sweeping  graceful  appearance  which 
marks  her  more  elegant  sister,  the  yacht.  But  for 
a  land-lubber,  this  is  perhaps  a  good  thing,  since 
she  carries  less  sail  than  she  could  with  safety, 
since  it  is  essential  that  the  decks  of  a  trading 
schooner  should  remain  dry,  not  so  much  for  the 
benefit  of  the  numerous  deck  passengers  as  for  the 
cargo  carried  on  deck. 

Aft  there  is  a  semi-deck  cabin  which  subdivides 
itself  into  a  main  dining-room,  the  captain's  small 
stateroom,  a  lavatory  and  a  tiny  pantry.  Round 
the  walls  of  the  dining-room  were  innumerable 
shelves  packed  tightly  with  merchandise,  including 
many  rolls  of  desirable  calicoes  and  muslins  for 
trade  purposes. 

In  the  centre  of  the  room  stood  a  table  close  to 
an  American  leather  settee,  upon  which  the  cap- 
tain slept.  A  few  chairs  were  dotted  about  the 
floor  which  also  formed  the  bed  of  four  saloon 

113 


114  TAHITI  DAYS 

passengers.  A  narrow  passage  led  aft  to  the 
counter,  from  the  rails  of  which  hung  many 
bunches  of  bananas. 

Teta,  the  chef  mechanicien,  lived  in  a  small 
cabin  which  one  entered  from  the  waist  of  the  ship. 
Underneath  the  deck  house  stood  the  engine,  or,  as 
it  was  called,  the  "machine''  and  if  you  entered 
Teta's  cabin  hastily  and  thoughtlessly,  in  less  than 
no  time  you  found  yourself  staring  at  the  clean 
green  painted  machine.  That  is,  if  you  were  cap- 
able of  seeing  anything,  after  falling  through  the 
trap  door  in  Teta's  cabin. 

Willie,  the  supercargo,  slept  in  a  bunk  inside 
the  door  of  the  main  cabin,  and  underneath  this 
dwelt  Mimi,  the  cat,  and  her  small  family,  together 
with  the  more  highly  ornamented  hats  of  the  deck 
passengers. 

In  the  waist  of  the  schooner  were  two  large  land- 
ing boats,  much  deck  cargo,  and  fifteen  deck  pas- 
sengers who  hoped  for  a  fair  breeze,  since  every 
day  at  sea  would  cost  them  ten  francs. 

For'ard  was  another  deck  house  which,  with 
some  economy  of  space,  divided  itself  into  a 
cook  house,  and  a  cabin  for  the  chief  mate  and 
cook. 

Amongst  the  passengers  were  two  pumps,  to  one 
of  which  every  day  went  a  sailor,  and  he  pumped, 
and,  as  the  bilge  water  flowed  over  the  deck,  the 
passengers  remarked,  "  Noa  noa."  But  they  were 
not  thinking  of  Gauguin's  Look,  and  the  sweet 


THE  SCHOONER  115 

atmosphere  he  desires  to  convey,  since  bilge  water 
is  not  sweet  smelling.  Perhaps  this  is  an  unneces- 
sary plunge  into  detail! 

Willie,  the  supercargo,  ignoring  the  decisive 
argument  displayed  by  his  olive  skin,  was  deter- 
mined to  be  a  white  man,  and  he  succeeded  in  con- 
vincing the  crew.  He  failed  to  convince  anyone 
else  however,  for  he  looked  precisely  like  a  polite 
Hindu  at  Cambridge.  He  spoke  much  English 
and  some  French,  and  acted  as  a  speaking  tube 
for  the  captain.  His  mother  was  a  half-caste 
something  or  other,  probably  Chilian,  and  his 
father  aspired  to  Irish  ancestry,  but  nothing 
regular  nor  English.  Once  I  saw  him  embrace  a 
dark  man,  seemingly  to  my  inexperienced  eye  a 
full-blooded  native.  "  Who's  that?  "  I  asked,  not- 
ing the  French  embrace  he  gave  the  man.  "  The 
white  man?"  queried  Willie.  'Yes  the  white 
man,"  I  answered  tactfully.  "  Oh,  that's  my 
mother's  brother." 

And  although  I  was  not  convinced,  the  sailors 
were,  and  they  gave  him  the  respect  and  obedience 
he  needed.  Of  course,  he  was  the  raatiras  repre- 
sentative, the  captain's  understudy,  and  as  such 
he  was  supreme. 

The  sailors  were  a  droll  company.  It  is  true 
that  a  sailor  who  goes  to  sea  on  a  trading  schooner 
can  have  little  fear  of  an  uncomfortable  purga- 
tory. As  a  matter  of  fact,  going  off  in  a  schooner 
is  the  way  of  least  resistance  for  many  of  them. 


116  TAHITI  DAYS 

If  they  don't  go,  they  tend  to  starve,  and  on 
a  schooner  they  do  get  food. 

I  watched  them  as  we  slowly  steered  our  way 
towards  the  passage  in  the  reef  ahead.  They  were 
all  bewreathed  and  unhealthy  looking,  and  had 
obviously  had  a  wonderful  time  ashore.  Their 
appearance  was  absurd,  like  Hawaiians  in  New 
York.  I  wondered  how  long  the  pink  wreaths 
would  last.  One  pan  looked  like  a  pirate  on  the 
Spanish  Main.  He  possessed  a  huge  green  and 
yellow  striped  scarf  which  he  had  bound  around 
his  Jewish  looking  head.  Pirates  all  wear  head- 
gear like  that  in  pictures  and  on  the  stage. 
With  large  earrings,  this  man  might  have  posed 
as  a  pirate. 

We  had  fourteen  deck  passengers.  They  sat 
below  the  salt — definitely.  One  gazed  upon  them 
as  from  the  heavens  above  and  unconsciously  re- 
garded them  as  Neptune  must  regard  the  absurd 
people  who  inhabit  liners  at  sea. 

There  were  but  two  women  deck  passengers, 
and  one  lady  promised  to  distinguish  herself  from 
the  start.  She  accosted  me  at  once,  and  remarked 
with  a  grin,  in  native  and  English: 

"YougoHikuero?" 

"No,"  I  replied;  "I'm  going  to  Fagatau." 

She  displayed  surprise. 

"  If  you  go  to  Hikuero  I  will  give  you  pearl 
shells  and  some  little  pearls." 

I  became  friendly  at  once,  so  she  sat  down  beside 


THE  SCHOONER  117 

me  and  played  a  Jewish  harp  in  my  ear.  It 
is  remarkable  how  seductive  a  Jewish  harp  can 
sound.  Later  I  had  more  time  to  observe  Marfa. 
She  was  accompanied  by  a  charming  curly-haired 
girl  of  five  summers  who  was  her  baby  by  adop- 
tion. She  gave  me  some  unnecessary  information 
about  the  child's  father,  which  I  dare  not  com- 
municate to  you. 

Her  personality  was  insistent  in  spite  of  her 
age,  fifty-seven,  getting  close  to  the  end  of  all 
things  for  a  native  woman.  She  was  thin;  she 
was  ugly;  the  skin  of  her  chin  was  tightly  drawn 
and  her  mouth  seemed  designed  for  tearing  live 
food  to  pieces.  I  saw  her  crawling  about  the  deck 
with  a  small  kitten  in  her  mouth,  like  a  cat.  Her 
eyes  were  savage;  her  hair  was  lank  and  dreary 
looking,  she  was  playful  like  a  lioness,  she  could 
dance,  she  was  cheerful,  and  horrible.  Her 
remarks  were  filthy  and  funny.  And  yet  to  help 
others  seemed  always  her  aim.  With  great  skill 
she  made  a  small  cabin  or  tabernacle  with  some 
tarpaulin,  so  that  the  fourteen  deck  passengers 
might  shelter  from  the  rain;  and  they  would  do 
nothing  for  her.  I  know  the  other  woman  re- 
fused to  lend  her  a  green  enamel  basin  she  pos- 
sessed, and  once  a  great  stout  native  boy  drove 
her  off  from  him  with  something  approaching  a 
curse.  And  the  other  passengers  roared  with  de- 
light, in  which  Marfa  joined. 

She  had  had  four  boys  of  her  own,  but  they  had 


118  TAHITI  DAYS 

died,  so  she  adopted  other  folks'  babies.  Towards 
the  curly-haired  maiden  she  acted  with  a  savage 
affection,  and  the  baby  wept  if  Marfa  were  distant 
from  her  more  than  a  dozen  yards.  No  selfish 
scheme  ever  came  off  for  herself,  and  when  the 
others  laughed  at  her  discomfiture,  she  would  look 
comically  savage,  entirely  for  their  amusement. 
She  was  too  old,  too  ugly,  and  yet  her  progress 
around  the  deck  was  always  marked  by  roars  of 
laughter.  Marfa  would  make  the  fortune  of  a 
Cinema  firm,  for  she  was  a  perfect  actress  and 
never  missed  an  occasion  nor  a  pose  if  it  were 
amusing.  I  could  understand  but  little  of  her 
language,  but  to  see  her  imitate  a  Frenchman  and 
to  hear  her  sing  a  bad  French  song  and  a  holy 
British  one,  would  make  a  cat  smile  even  more 
widely  than  a  Cheshire  cat.  She  proposed  mar- 
riage to  the  sailors  in  turn,  and  often,  placing 
her  ugly  face  close  beside  theirs,  she  would  call 
attention  to  the  contrast — the  soft,  good  looking 
Tahitian,  and  her  own  ape-like  head. 

I  must  admit  that  the  captain  and  all  the  other 
folk  who  could  speak  English  regarded  her  as  mad, 
but  I  don't  think  she  was  any  madder  than  other 
comedians.  The  captain  disliked  her  intensely. 
He  told  me  that  the  day  before  the  Tereora  left, 
she  had  called  on  his  wife,  and  after  a  lengthy 
conversation  during  which  the  captain's  wife  ex- 
pected money  to  be  borrowed  from  her  any 
minute,  she  remarked,  "  I  hear  that  you  are  not 


THE  SCHOONER  119 

on  speaking  terms  with  your  mother.  That 
is  very  wicked."  Marfa  was  compelled  to  leave 
very  soon  after  that. 

The  captain  had  another  grievance.  The  night 
before  the  Tereora  left,  Marfa  appeared  with 
twenty  prospective  passengers,  whom  she  alleged 
were  going  with  her  to  Hikuero  to  clean  shell  for 
her  husband.  Marfa's  husband  is  but  a  poor  diver 
and  could  not  employ  even  one  cleaner  all  day. 
Now  these  twenty  potential  pearl  shell  cleaners 
were  maidens,  under  twenty,  and  their  reputation 
was  bad  even  for  Papeete.  Marfa  had  approached 
them  and  had  arranged  to  pay  their  fares  for  them 
at  Hikuero  if  they  each  gave  her  a  certain  amount 
on  the  spot.  Having  stated  that  her  husband  had 
influence  with  the  schooner  owners,  the  girls  re- 
garded the  proposition  as  good. 

Marfa  gave  a  party  with  the  money,  and,  becom- 
ing intoxicated,  she  led  the  maidens  down  to  the 
Tereora  to  inspect  the  schooner.  Here  they  met 
Willie,  the  supercargo,  who  informed  them  firmly 
that  there  was  not  the  slightest  chance  of  their 
travelling  on  the  Tereora.  Their  feelings  were 
jarred  considerably,  and  these  they  displayed 
vulgarly — the  twenty  of  them. 

But  if  they  felt  unkindly  towards  Willie,  im- 
agine how  they  felt  towards  Marfa,  who  was 
executing  a  hula-hula  on  the  breastwork.  She 
said,  "  aita  pea-pea,"  which  means  "  It's  all  right  I 
Don't  worry!  It'll  be  all  the  same  a  thousand 


120  TAHITI  DAYS 

years  hence!"  In  fact  aita  pea-pea  has  a  com- 
posite irritating  meaning  when  applied  to  those 
suffering  from  outrageous  fortune.  The  twenty 
maidens  threw  her  into  the  lagoon,  but  she  bobbed 
up  and  jeered  at  them;  so,  laughing  and  crying, 
they  returned  to  Papeete  to  see  what  sin  and 
wickedness  they  could  find  there. 

The  other  woman  was  ugly  too,  but  she  was 
slightly  and  beautifully  built,  and  since  facial 
beauty  hardly  affects  the  heart  or  mind  of  a 
Tahitian,  she  had  little  to  worry  about.  Then  she 
had  two  fine  boys,  her  love  for  whom  was  wonder- 
ful to  behold,  for  while  nursing  them — they  were 
very*  seasick — her  funny,  pock-marked,  wizened- 
up  face  became  beautiful  with  the  eternal  loveliness 
of  motherhood,  which  combines  that  of  the  sweet- 
heart and  the  friend — an  invincible  combina- 
tion. 

This  woman  was  quiet  until  Marfa  told  a  lie 
about  the  number  of  sacks  of  shell  her  (Marfa's) 
husband  could  bring  from  the  deep.  This  touched 
the  woman  on  a  tender  spot,  for  her  husband  is 
one  of  the  cleverest  divers  in  the  Paumotus,  while 
Marfa's  man  is  but  a  poor  diver.  So  she  spoke- 
hard.  She  screwed  up  her  face  hatefully  and 
hissed  at  Marfa.  She  smote  her,  hip  and  thigh, 
verbally.  But  Marfa,  quite  in  the  wrong,  got  all 
the  laughs  from  the  crowd  as  she  answered  in 
broken  French  and  English,  Tahitian,  Samoan 
(her  native  language),  Paumotan,  and  even  Mar- 


THE  SCHOONER  121 

quesan.  Finally  she  sang  a  short  hymn,  and  with 
such  a  pious  expression  that  we  all  roared. 

We  had  a  cabin  passenger,  to  whom,  without 
success,  I  tried  to  give  my  stateroom.  A  more 
pathetic  person  it  would  be  difficult  to  find.  She 
was  a  white  woman  called  Gloriana.  She  was 
thirty-five  years  old  and  looked  fifty.  Her  father 
had  been  one  of  the  wealthiest  men  in  Tahiti,  and 
had  owned  several  fine  schooners,  the  snowiest  and 
finest  of  which  was  called  "  Gloriana"  Things 
went  wrong.  Gloriana,  possessing  one-eighth 
Tahitian  blood,  met  a  "  gentleman,"  a  Cambridge 
man,  who  regarded  marriage  as  much  too  per- 
manent and  definite,  and  with  him  she  gladly 
lived,  producing  two  fine  boys.  He  left  her  or 
died,  her  father  became  poor,  and  some  strange 
fortune  led  her  to  one  of  the  outlying  islands  of 
the  Paumotus,  where  she  found  a  native  glad  to 
possess  a  white  woman,  and  especially  one  with 
two  boys.  They  married,  and  Gloriana  found 
the  native  more  a  gentleman  than  the  "  gentle- 
man.'* Unfortunately  her  digestive  arrangements 
had  gone  wrong,  and  I  found  her  returning  from 
Tahiti  with  her  two  boys.  She  had  gone  to 
Papeete  to  get  medical  advice.  The  advice  seemed 
humourous,  since  she  was  forbidden  to  eat  almost 
anything,  certainly  anything  to  be  obtained  on 
the  island  except  condensed  milk.  From  a  diges- 
tive point  of  view  her  future  looked  unpromising. 

For  ten  days  she  lay  on  the  counter  of  the 


122  TAHITI  DAYS 

Tereora  with  her  boys,  one  seasick  all  the  time, 
and  the  other  singing.  Gloriana  was  seasick  her- 
self. She  could  have  slept  on  the  floor  with  M. 
LeRoy  and  M.  LeRoy's  concubine,  but  she 
preferred  the  extreme  end  of  the  Tereora,  and  here 
she  was  bounced  up  and  down. 

There  was  a  Marquesan  criminal  on  board,  who 
had  succeeded  in  forging  a  French  authority's 
hand,  gaining  thereby  three  hundred  francs,  and 
a  year's  imprisonment  in  the  Tahitian  gaol.  Find- 
ing themselves  short  of  Government  servants  in 
the  Marquesas,  he  was  returning  to  be  the  doctor's 
servant,  it  was  alleged.  This  boy,  nineteen  years 
old,  was  described  by  the  natives  as  a  mahu,  which 
means  an  effeminate  person — a  droll  combination 
that  was  astonishing.  They  alleged  that  he  spent 
all  his  spare  time  with  the  girls.  Many  of  us  do 
that,  but  this  fellow  made  hats  and  mats.  Which 
is  terrible.  However,  Marfa  adopted  him,  since 
his  love  was  cheap,  nursing  him,  playing  the  Jew's 
harp  at  him  and  even  feeding  him  while  he  was  ill. 
He  had  a  pleasing  face,  and  if  it  were  not  for  the 
drollness  of  his  manner,  he  would  not  have  been 
unattractive.  He  used  to  spend  his  time  gossiping 
with  the  concubine  of  M.  LeRoy,  a  handsome 
young  lady  of  twenty-three,  who  sat  outside  the 
cabin  with  her  basket  of  cigarette  makings,  per- 
fectly happy,  while  her  unofficial  husband  lay  on 
his  back  for  fifteen  days  quite  seasick,  and  yet 
able  to  get  up  at  meal  times  and  to  eat  more 


THE  SCHOONER  123 

than  all  of  us  put  together.  M.  LeRoy  was  a 
Frenchman  with  honest  eyes,  fragile  body,  but  of  a 
good  courage. 

The  other  passengers  will  hardly  warrant  de- 
scription, but  perhaps  I  had  better  tell  you  about 
Peeno. 

Peeno  had  gone  to  Papeete  several  months  be- 
fore to  get  an  official  divorce  from  an  unfaithful 
and  undiscerning  wife,  and  after  several  happy 
weeks  in  Papeete,  the  divorce  was  granted,  but  the 
sum  of  seventy-five  francs  was  required  to  clinch 
the  business.  No  one  seemed  willing  to  invest  this 
sum  in  Peeno's  happiness,  and,  since  he  possessed 
only  enough  money  to  take  him  back  to  his  island, 
he  decided  to  return  and  hope  for  the  best.  Nor- 
mally, no  one  would  have  worried  about  the  di- 
vorce, but  the  new  young  lady  upon  whom  Peeno 
had  designs,  was  three-quarters  white.  And  she 
was  an  heiress  likely  to  possess  one  thousand 
pounds  a  year,  if  the  price  of  copra  remained 
steady.  However,  he  decided  to  return  and 
marry  the  lady,  which  doubtlessly  he  has  done  by 
this  time,  but  the  priest  may  be  angry  if  he 
decides  to  find  out. 

There  is  no  doubt  but  what  Peeno  would  have 
approached  more  nearly  his  salvation  if  he  had  not 
spent  all  his  money  before  the  divorce  was  finally 
granted,  but  "  aita  pea-pea"  he  said. 

There  were  other  characters  on  our  little 
schooner  and  we  may  mention  them  as  we  proceed. 


124  TAHITI  DAYS 

We  are  now  slowly  steaming  towards  the  pas- 
sage. We  can  see  the  two  ends  of  the  reef  with 
the  surf  breaking  upon  them,  and  now  we  are  out- 
side. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

OUTSIDE  THE  REEF 

'  WE'RE  going  to  get  it,  Lieutenant,"  said  Joe, 
looking  towards  the  most  northerly  end  of  the 
island  that  could  be  seen. 

"Are  we?"  I  remarked  carelessly. 

We  were  bobbing  along  the  coast  just  outside 
the  reef.  I  felt  splendid,  not  the  faintest  bit  sea- 
sick. We  had  passed  my  little  fare,  and  I  had 
seen  my  villainous  Chinese  cook  standing  on  the 
veranda  amidst  the  hanging  ferns  and  pot  plants. 
It  was  about  eleven  o'clock,  and,  feeling  hungry,  I 
decided  to  have  a  drink  of  cocoanut  water.  Charlie, 
the  Marquesan  cabin  boy,  promptly  prepared  a 
cocoanut  which  I  enjoyed.  Then  I  went  aft  and 
stood  by  the  captain.  I  was  astonished  at  the 
vivacity  the  Tereora  displayed  as  we  sailed  well 
up  into  a  stiff  trade  breeze.  A  trading  schooner 
must  keep  her  decks  as  dry  as  possible,  hence 
speed  is  sacrificed  to  dryness.  The  result  is  that 
instead  of  forging  through  the  upper  portion  of 
a  wave  like  a  yacht,  she  climbs  up  the  sea  if  it  is 
a  head  sea,  and  descends  the  other  side;  then,  after 
an  irritating  jerk,  she  commences  to  climb  the 
next  one.  The  result  is  horrible  if  you  are  not 
used  to  it. 

125 


126  TAHITI  DAYS 

Hardly  ten  minutes  had  passed  before  I  began 
to  regret  that  cocoanut,  and  another  ten  found 
me  lying  on  my  bunk  very,  very  seasick.  I  re- 
tired from  the  world  for  eighteen  hours.  Once 
during  this  time  I  climbed  on  deck,  and  the  point 
covered  with  cocoanut  trees,  whereon  my  house 
rests,  could  be  faintly  discerned.  Oh,  how  I  longed 
to  be  there!  I  smiled  faintly  at  the  captain,  and 
then  once  more  retired.  But  I  will  spare  you 
details,  while  confessing  humbly  that  the  posses- 
sion of  a  little  courage  would  have  caused  me  to 
offer  the  captain  a  cheque  for  a  large  sum  in  order 
that  I  might  be  landed  anywhere,  on  a  solitary 
rock  in  mid-ocean,  I  cared  not.  However,  I  stuck 
it  out.  The  captain  said  I  would  be  better  in 
the  morning,  and  I  was,  but  then  so  was  the 
sea — a  little. 

I  had  an  ordinary  deck  chair,  and  upon  this  I 
sat  watching  the  deck  passengers  and  being 
watched  by  them.  We  were  all  amused  and 
interested. 

The  activity,  the  liveliness  of  the  Tereora  was 
marvellous.  She  jumped  stiffly,  she  planed  grace- 
fully, but  refused  to  become  monotonous.  I  had 
hoped  to  get  to  Hikuero  in  six  days,  but  after  the 
third  day  out  this  hope  was  abandoned  since  we 
experienced  a  head  sea,  possibly  the  remains  of 
a  storm  we  had  missed.  Upon  the  fourth  day  we 
sighted  land,  which  was  encouraging,  though  the 
land  merely  appeared  as  a  few  cocoanuts  growing 


OUTSIDE  THE  REEF  127 

out  of  the  sea.  A  northerly  tack  took  the  schooner 
close  to  the  island,  which  was  Anau.  Upon  near- 
ing  the  reef,  we  could  see  the  blue  lagoon  looking 
desirable  with  its  miles  and  miles  of  smooth  water. 
Then  we  turned  round  on  the  other  tack  and  left 
the  island  astern.  I  have  not  mentioned  that  from 
the  time  we  had  left  Tahiti  we  had  been  tacking, 
which  to  a  landlubber  is  a  zig-zag  business  that 
never  seems  to  get  one  anywhere.  I  was  grow- 
ing hopelessly  bored.  I  used  to  sit  with  the  natives 
and  chat  with  them,  though  this  was  difficult  since 
I  could  only  smatter  their  language.  "  Mimi," 
the  long,  thin  black  cat,  disliked  me  playing  with 
her  kittens,  and  used  to  sit  near  me  and  mew  with 
so  such  melancholy  that  I  had  to  give  up  the  kittens. 
They  were  too  young  to  be  played  with  anyway. 

On  the  fourth  day  out  the  captain  said,  "  Sorry 
to  report  a  case  of  smallpox  on  board,  Lieuten- 
ant," and  then  seeing  that  my  sense  of  humour  had 
not  altogether  returned,  he  explained  that  the  boy 
bound  for  Fakahina  had  developed  large  numbers 
of  spots  all  over  him.  The  captain  didn't  think 
it  was  smallpox.  I  groaned  in  the  spirit,  for  dur- 
ing my  melancholy  days  of  "  mal-de-mer  "  I  had 
had  dark  forebodings.  They  were  now  going  to 
be  realized. 

"It  is  fortunate  that  I  have  been  but  recently 
vaccinated,"  I  thought,  "  if  it  is  smallpox." 
Hence,  after  breakfast,  I  examined  the  boy  from  a 
distance,  and  felt  more  depressed,  and  even  more 


128  TAHITI  DAYS 

thankful  for  the  scars  of  vaccination  on  my  arm. 
He  had  been  unwell  from  the  commencement  of 
the  voyage,  and  now  his  face,  arms  and  legs  were 
covered  with  immense  quantities  of  large  inflamed 
pimples.  I  appealed  to  Willie,  the  supercargo, 
and  he  remarked  kindly,  "  He  got — what  you  call 
it — English-er-er  *  petit  pox ' — yes,  tha's  right— 
'petit  pox.'" 

'  Well,  Willie,  what  are  you  going  to  do,  you 
can't  leave  him  mixed  up  with  all  these  people  ? " 
I  asked. 

Willie  at  once  wore  that  "  what  can  you  do  " 
expression  that  a  Frenchman  signifies  with  a 
shrug.  The  boy  could  not  be  isolated,  even  if 
anyone  wanted  to  isolate  him,  which  was  uncer- 
tain. 

"If  you  land  him  at  Fakahina,  the  two  or  three 
hundred  people  there  will  get  the  disease.  Can't 
you  land  him  tomorrow  at  Hikuero?  "  I  enquired. 

"  Then  all  people  at  Hikuero  get  the  sickness," 
Willie  replied  sweetly  with  another  kindly  smile 
and  a  "  what  can  you  do  "  expression. 

I  then  discussed  the  matter  with  Peeno  and  he 
replied  that  he  had  suffered  only  a  year  before 
from  a  similar  disease,  and  Peeno  certainly  had  at 
least  three  pit  marks  on  his  handsome  good  natured 
face. 

"  If  you  get  it,  put  your  head  in  the  sea  water 
and  you  no  get  marks,"  he  said,  "  I  did  that,  I 
got  no  marks."  I  refused  to  argue  with  him. 


OUTSIDE  THE  REEF  129 

Finally  Willie  agreed  to  attempt  some  sort  of 
isolation  and  the  patient  was  placed  in  one  of  the 
large  surf  boats  amongst  the  bananas  and  fruit 
of  the  passengers.  He  lay  mixed  up  with  the 
oars  and  seats,  and  only  poked  his  poor  red  covered 
head  out  occasionally. 

"  He'll  want  a  grindstone  for  his  face — or  some 
emery  paper,"  Joe  said,  when  he  saw  the  head. 

I  was  actually  the  only  person  on  board 
troubled.  I  thought  that  Gloriana,  since  she  lived 
at  Fakahina,  ought  to  share  my  melancholy,  but 
she  merely  lifted  her  draggled  looking  head  from 
the  mats  and  rugs  and  said  dismally  "  All  the 
people  at  Fakahina  will  get  it "  —then  brightly, 
"  the  only  thing  is  to  give  them  a  good  dose  of 
castor  oil  and  then  some  starch."  Lilian  changed 
the  subject  and  I  perforce  treated  the  matter 
stoically  and  hoped  for  the  best. 

At  lunch  time  the  captain  said,  "  How  would 
you  like  to  land  on  an  uninhabited  island,  Lieu- 
tenant?" 

I  replied,  "  I'd  love  to." 

Who  hasn't  read  "The  Coral  Island?" 

Joe  placed  the  chart  on  the  table  and  we  bent 
over  it.  With  his  first  finger  he  pointed  out  where 
we  were,  or  rather  where  he  thought  we  were. 
He  was  certain  of  the  latitude,  but  the  chronometer 
was  either  broken,  or  he  did  not  have  one,  so  the 
longitude  was  uncertain.  This  allowed  us  much 
latitude  to  choose  from,  an  unsatisfactory  situation 


130  TAHITI  DAYS 

in  navigation.  However,  Joe's  instinct  seldom 
failed  him.  Island  schooners  apparently  reach 
their  destination  more  by  chance  than  design. 
Some  captains  navigate  scientifically,  especially  if 
the  owner  travels  with  the  schooner.  An  owner 
dislikes  to  see  his  schooner  piled  upon  a  reef. 

But  it  would  seem  that  the  majority  of  schooner 
captains  trust  to  instinct  and  their  knowledge 
of  the  different  islands.  Cynical  people  laugh  at 
this. 

I  remember  hearing  of  an  American  arriving  on 
one  of  the  Cook  Islands  and  promptly  marrying 
the  queen  of  one  of  the  districts.  A  lady  who 
writes  the  "  lotus  eating "  rot  about  the  South 
Sea  tells  the  story  of  this  romance.  How  the 
young  American  wooed  and  finally,  in  spite  of  the 
principal  queen's  opposition,  won  the  blushing 
young  princess.  The  story  is  pleasing,  and  filled 
with  atmosphere — the  atmosphere  you  believe 
exists  in  the  South  Seas,  but  which  does  not.  Un- 
fortunately, unkind  truth  tells  that  the  lady, 
though  rich,  was  large  and  fat  and  the  proud 
mother  of  eight  husky  children  from  a  former  con- 
jugal enterprise.  Humourous  truth  goes  on  to 
state  that  after  the  queen's  husband  had  settled 
down  to  his  life  in  the  district,  he  felt  the  necessity 
for  some  kind  of  business.  He  suggested  therefore, 
to  the  queen,  his  wife,  and  to  all  the  chiefs,  that 
the  district  should  own  a  schooner  to  trade  with 
another  island  fifty  miles  distant.  The  idea  was 


OUTSIDE  THE  REEF  131 

favourably  received  by  all,  with  the  exception  of 
one  old  man,  who  cautiously  remarked  that  he 
did  not  see  the  use  of  a  schooner  without  a  cap- 
tain to  sail  her.  The  young  American  looked  at 
him  pityingly  and  the  queen  snapped  that  her 
husband  was  the  man  to  sail  the  schooner,  "  and 
that  you  weren't  to  talk  nonsense."  So  the  old 
man  was  convinced,  the  business  of  subtracting  the 
necessary  funds  from  the  citizens  went  on  apace, 
and  finally  resulted  in  the  appearance  inside  the 
lagoon  of  a  fine  schooner. 

Since  the  schooner  was  held  in  common  by  the 
district,  it  was  decided  that  her  first  voyage  should 
be  something  of  an  affair.  The  queen  was  a  bad 
sailor  so  she  did  not  venture  upon  the  first  voyage. 
She  had  been  on  schooners  before,  and  hated  them. 
However,  the  principal  chiefs  bearing  many  pres- 
ents found  themselves  on  board  bound  for  the  neigh- 
bouring island.  The  young  American,  and  I  call 
him  the  "  young  American  "  because  the  lotus-eat- 
ing writer  lady  calls  him  that — he  has  been  called 
other  names,  but  the  white  people  living  on  his 
island  are  notoriously  uncharitable — took  com- 
mand and  soon  the  schooner  was  bounding  over  the 
blue  waves.  They  were  due  at  the  other  island  late 
on  the  following  day,  but  the  evening  of  the  next, 
the  next  again,  and  the  next  again  after  that, 
found  them  still  at  sea  and  extremely  uncomfort- 
able. Fortunately,  the  following  day  land  was 
sighted  and  the  young  American  said  to  the 


132  TAHITI  DAYS 

despondent  chiefs,  '  There's  your  island  for 
you." 

The  chiefs  were  much  pleased  and  commenced  to 
make  ready  for  the  reception.  Each  noble  un- 
packed his  presents  and  soon  they  were  close  to 
land.  "  It  looks  exactly  like  our  own  island," 
said  one  chief;  "the  mountains  are  the  same  but 
the  beach  is  different."  I  hardly  dare  to  continue 
the  sad  story,  but  I  must  relate  that  it  was  their 
own  island — the  other  end  of  it.  They  gave  up  the 
schooner  soon  after  that. 

So  South  Sea  navigation  is  erratic,  but  Captain 
Joe  seldom  misses  an  island.  And  navigating 
amongst  the  Paumotus  is  not  easy.  The  islands 
are  so  low-lying  that  one  can  only  detect  them  on 
a  clear  day  at  seven  or  eight  miles  or  thereabouts 
from  a  schooner.  Many  a  once-fair  schooner  lies 
rotting  in  the  deep  water  beside  the  reef  of  many 
an  atoll. 

Therefore  it  was  not  unreasonable  for  us  to  hope 
that  we  might  strike  the  uninhabited  island  the 
next  day.  '  Today "  was  Sunday  and  Joe  had 
rolled  up  the  chart,  taken  off  his  spectacles  and 
seated  himself  back  on  the  settee  looking  comically 
at  M.  LeRoy  who  had  seemed  less  seasick  when 
hearing  of  a  possible  landing.  LeRoy  had  even 
discussed  the  price  of  cartridges,  and  had  agreed 
to  shoot  birds  if  Joe  would  supply  the  cartridges, 
which  after  some  discussion  Joe  agreed  to  do. 
Willie,  the  supercargo,  had  taken  his  gun  to 


OUTSIDE  THE  REEF  133 

pieces  so  easily,  and  it  was  so  rusty  that  I  made 
a  mental  note  to  steer  clear  of  him  during 
his  preliminary  bombardments.  We  were  all  very 
excited  about  landing. 

About  ten  o'clock  the  Chinese  cook  entered  the 
cabin  with  a  suggestive  and  humourous  smile  say- 
ing, "  Today  him  Sunday." 

To  which  Joe  replied,  "  Yes,  today  him  Sun- 
day, make  'im  a  pie,  eh!" 

'  Yes,  make  'im  a  pie,"  said  the  cook. 

So  Willie,  looking  bored  and  pleased,  got  down 
from  his  bunk,  took  out  his  keys  with  an  indulgent 
air,  and  produced  five  cans  of  peaches.  The  cook 
retired,  saying  sweetly  to  me,  "  Good  morning, 
gentleman." 

"How  do  you  know?"  said  Joe  rudely. 

Captain  Joe  informed  me  that  the  island  upon 
which  we  would  possibly  land  was  called  Paraki. 
It  had  been  planted  with  cocoanuts,  the  lagoon 
and  the  reef  shelf  contained  many  fish,  and  in- 
numerable birds  lived  in  obscurity  and  content- 
ment amongst  its  scraggy  trees. 

During  the  afternoon  M.  LeRoy  got  up  and 
crawled  out  on  to  the  poop,  but  growing  dis- 
couraged, he  retired  once  more.  His  unofficial 
wife  then  continued  her  soft  chattering  with  the 
Marquesan  criminal. 

That  night  I  retired  to  the  usual  process  of  being 
hurled  from  one  side  to  the  other  of  my  berth. 
I  could  not  sleep.  The  lamp  burning  at  one  end 


134  TAHITI  DAYS 

of  my  cabin,  in  order  that  the  steersman  might  see 
the  compass,  was  disturbing.  Finally  it  was  morn- 
ing and  I  yelled  to  Joe,  "  Can  you  see  land? "  and 
he  replied,  "  No,  not  yet,  Lieutenant."  So  we  had 
coffee. 

Upon  going  on  deck  I  discovered  a  perfect  calm, 
and  this  pleased  us  all,  for  we  could  make  at  least 
six  knots  with  our  machine,  which  soon  commenced 
to  puff  away. 

Then  commenced  a  trying  five  hours.  We 
sighted  land,  reached  within  six  miles  of  it,  when 
the  machine  stopped.  There  was  no  wind  and 
Teta  could  not  make  the  engine  work  for  nearly 
an  hour.  It  went  then,  at  irregular  intervals,  dur- 
ing which  time  we  gave  Teta  advice  about  his 
engine.  We  murmured  things  about  the  carbu- 
retor, and  finally  M.  LeRoy  suggested  that  per- 
haps the  gauze  strainer  between  the  oil  tank  and 
the  engine  had  become  blocked.  Teta  thought  this 
humourous,  but  finally  agreed  to  look.  M.  Le- 
Roy was  right,  the  strainer  seemed  filled  with 
human  hair.  After  cleaning  the  gauze,  the  engine 
went  steadily,  and  soon  we  were  abreast  of  the  is- 
land. We  steered  for  the  leeward  side  and  a  boat 
was  made  ready  for  launching.  Marfa,  desirous 
of  landing,  had  girded  her  skirts  around  her. 
Willie  said,  "  No!  "  I  begged  for  her,  and  Willie 
agreed.  But  Captain  Joe  refused  permission  and 
poor  old  Marfa  was  disappointed.  The  boy  with 
the  "  petit  pox  "  had  been  ordered  to  get  out  of 


OUTSIDE  THE  REEF  135 

the  landing  boat,  which  thing  he  did  willingly. 
His  pimples  were  coming  off  bodily  at  this  time. 
They  cast  the  boat  overboard  and  a  few  sailors, 
with  Willie,  M.  LeRoy  and  myself,  cast  ourselves 
into  it.  "  Don't  forget  to  bring  plenty  of  Poppi 
liari"  said  Joe,  "  let  go."  The  schooner  went  off 
with  her  tail  in  the  air,  and  we  were  presently 
rowing  towards  what  appeared  to  be  an  angry, 
wicked  looking  mass  of  rocks  and  surf. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

OVER  THE  REEF 

THE  prospect  of  getting  ashore  alive  seemed 
vague.  '  They  have  made  a  mistake  in  their 
choice  of  a  landing  place,  but  I  dare  say  human 
cussedness  will  make  them  persevere,"  I  thought. 
It  looked  dangerous,  and  M.  LeRoy  seized  this 
chance  to  state  that  the  last  time  he  had  gone  over 
the  reef  the  boat  had  capsized,  and  his  money  was 
slowly  floating  away  in  a  wallet  when  a  kindly 
kanaka  went  for  it,  and  got  it. 

A  shelf  had  formed  around  the  island,  and  as 
the  breakers  rushed  forward,  this  became  sub- 
merged. Then,  as  the  sea  with  a  bitter  sigh  with- 
drew, the  edge  of  this  shelf  became  exposed, 
leaving  a  shallow  pool  beyond,  about  one  hundred 
yards  wide  and  a  foot  deep,  extending  actually  to 
the  main  reef  of  the  atoll,  which,  of  course,  was  the 
island.  One  could  also  notice  under  the  edge 
great  subterranean  caverns  filled  with  blue  water. 

It  was  our  duty  and  ambition,  if  we  could  land, 
to  seize  the  right  moment,  when  a  big  wave  was 
submerging  the  coral  shelf,  to  get  our  boat  onto 
it,  and  to  remain  there;  because  if  we  did  not  re- 
main there,  all  of  us,  our  stern  would  sink  while 

136 


OVER  THE  REEF  137 

our  bow  would  remain  in  an  attitude  of  supplica- 
tion ready  to  be  engulfed  by  the  next  breaker, 
in  which  case  one  would  find  oneself  swimming 
among  the  caverns,  soon  to  be  grasped  by  a 
kanaka,  and  dragged  onto  the  reef  in  a  bloody 
condition.  Or  perhaps,  unluckily,  one  might  re- 
main under  the  boat  for  a  time,  and  they  would 
have  to  stand  one  on  one's  head  while  the  salt 
water  came  out.  To  be  drowned  was  unlikely, 
but  to  be  in  an  uncomfortable  position  seemed 
probable. 

We  slowly  approached,  and  took  up  a  hazardous 
position  just  before  the  waves  broke  on  the  rocks. 
Everybody  seemed  to  be  talking  at  once.  Some- 
times we  would  approach  and  then  they  would  de- 
cide not  to  take  the  fatal  leap.  Finally  a  suitable 
wave  was  chosen,  our  sailors  pulled  with  a  mighty 
will,  we  grounded,  but  only  one  half  of  the  boat. 
This  seemed  bad,  but  two  men  jumped  forward 
and  held  her  bows,  the  next  wave  approached, 
lifted  our  stern  and  took  us  well  forward,  right 
onto  the  shelf.  We  grounded  in  about  one  foot 
of  water. 

This  shelf  was  literally  filled  with  great  fish. 
Spears  commenced  to  fly,  men  shouted,  fish  of  all 
colours  died.  The  sailors  were  armed  with  great 
fish  spears,  and  the  accuracy  with  which  they  sent 
these  flying  through  the  air  was  wonderful  to  be- 
hold. Many  of  the  rods  had  at  least  six  barbed 
points,  so  that  it  was  easier  than  at  first  appeared. 


138  TAHITI  DAYS 

The  idea  was  to  disturb  a  shoal,  and  then  as  they 
darted  off  with  terrific  speed,  a  spear  would  fly 
through  the  air  just  above  them  and  gradually 
plane  down  until,  coming  amidst  them,  its  weight 
adding  velocity,  one  or  other  of  the  fish  would  be 
killed.  There  were  many  kinds  of  fish,  and  of 
varying  hues,  but  a  certain  bright  blue  fish  seemed 
to  be  the  favourite.  Its  upper  lip  is  hard  and  bony, 
suggesting  the  beak  of  a  parrot. 

The  natives,  and  indeed  the  whites  generally, 
eat  this  fish  raw,  the  process  of  preparation  making 
its  flesh  digestible.  The  flesh  is  removed  from 
the  bones,  and  then  bruised  on  the  coral,  until  it 
becomes  a  pulp.  It  is  then  soaked  in  cocoanut 
cream,  a  little  salad  oil,  some  vinegar  and  lime 
juice.  Being  then  served  with  fresh  onions  and 
crisp  lettuce,  it  tastes  rather  better  than  lobster. 

There  are  plenty  of  fish  in  the  Paumotus,  but 
to  the  stranger  their  consumption  is  attended  with 
some  danger  since  certain  species  are  poisonous. 
A  fish  found  in  the  enclosed  waters  of  the  lagoon, 
while  perfectly  safe  to  eat,  may  cause  the  most 
violent  pains  to  get  hold  upon  you  if  you  eat  him 
when  found  in  the  open  sea.  Other  fish  are  safe 
when  found  outside  the  reef,  and  deadly  poisonous 
during  their  sojourn  in  the  lagoon.  Apparently 
few  varieties  spend  all  their  lifetime  inside  the 
lagoon.  At  certain  times  they  commence  to 
migrate  out  over  the  shallow  submerged  part  of 
the  reef,  intent  upon  reaching  the  open  sea.  If  the 


OVER  THE  REEF  139 

island  is  inhabited,  but  few  escape  the  nets  of  the 
natives  if  they  attempt  this  migration  during  the 
day.  They  become  hysterical  and  sometimes  fling 
themselves  onto  sandbanks  where  they  are  easily 
caught.  In  any  case  it  is  not  difficult  to  herd  them 
into  nets.  The  natives  are  very  greedy  and  in- 
variably catch  many  hundreds  more  than  they  can 
possibly  eat.  Certainly  they  place  them  in  big 
pools,  a  useless  practice,  since  they  hardly  live 
more  than  an  hour. 

Having  assisted  the  sailors  for  some  time  in  this 
sport  or  slaughter,  whatever  you  like  to  call  it,  I 
decided  to  join  M.  LeRoy  and  Willie  who  had 
seized  their  guns  and,  judging  by  the  bombardment 
that  one  heard,  they  had  already  commenced  to 
have  some  sport.  I  paddled  across  the  pool, 
climbed  the  great  coral  chunks,  and  found  myself 
walking  over  difficult  ground  bearing  scraggy  trees 
and  sweet  smelling  shrubs.  The  birds,  some  black, 
and  others  an  adorable  snowy  white,  flew  around  us 
shrieking  their  wonderment  and  displeasure. 
Steady  females  sat  on  their  nests.  These  were 
shot.  Very  Hunnish  it  seemed.  I  climbed  one 
tree  to  see  what  one  poor  lady  had  been  sitting  on, 
and  found  a  solitary  egg.  I  put  it  in  my  pocket, 
but  it  objected  strenuously  without  redress,  and 
finally  decided  to  become  a  young  baby  bird.  I 
placed  the  poor  wee  thing  amongst  some  rocks, 
but  I  dare  say  the  crabs  got  her. 

The  birds  could  be  killed  with  a  stick,  which 


140  TAHITI  DAYS 

made  M.  LeRoy's  desire  to  shoot  mothers  on  their 
nests  seem  strange.  Fortunately  the  adorable 
white  angel  birds  refused  to  sit  on  their  nests,  and 
they  flitted  about  so  energetically  that  M.  Le 
Roy  only  shot  two.  Willie  failed  hopelessly  with 
his  antique  weapon,  and  took  to  hunting  crabs. 

I  decided  to  explore  on  my  own  account.  Cross- 
ing the  mainland,  which  is  the  actual  reef  upon 
which  vegetation  grows,  I  found  it  hard  going, 
especially  since  I  was  garbed  in  short  breeches. 
The  decayed  branches  and  stems  of  the  low- 
lying  scrub  had  formed  into  mounds  through  which 
one  sank,  with  a  crackling  sound,  waist  deep,  some- 
times to  find  one's  ankles  mixed  with  unkindly 
coral  chunks.  Visions  of  large  crabs  were,  in- 
sistent. I  struggled  on,  however,  and  finally 
struck  the  lagoon  looking  blue  and  green  in  the 
fierce  sunlight. 

I  suppose  most  people  know  what  an  atoll  or 
coral  formed  island  is.  If  you  take  an  ordinary 
ship's  life  buoy,  the  sort  of  thing  through  which 
an  old  seaman  advertises  soap,  and  allow  this  to 
float  on  some  water,  you  get  a  fair  idea  of  an 
atoll.  The  water  inside  the  buoy  is  the  lagoon, 
and  the  white  canvas  of  the  life  buoy  appearing 
above  the  water  is  the  land  or  reef.  That  is,  of 
course,  a  perfect  atoll.  Often  the  ring  of  land  is 
imperfect  and  is  submerged  at  parts,  allowing 
water  to  come  in  from  the  ocean  around.  Some- 
times there  is  a  deep  wide  cleft,  and  a  passage 


Copyright,  Kroepelein 


THE  TYPE  OF  NATIVE  WHO  ACCOMPANIED   MK  ASHORE  OX   IIARAIKI 

The  central  figure  is  Terueroo.  the  chief  of  Papenoo.  I  have  met 
many  charming  Tahitian  gentlemen,  but  never  a  one  to  equal 
Terueroo.  He  speaks  French  perfectly,  and  like  many  of  his 
brother  Tahitians,  he  combines  French  charm  of  manner  with  all 
the  good-natured  sincerity  of  the  Polynesian. 


Copyright,  Kroepeimn 


CLIMBING   A   COCO  AN  UT   TBKK 

The  gentleman  climbing  the  palm  is  obviously  posing. 
If  his  object  were  the  procuring  of  nuts  the  upper  part 
of  his  body  would  be  close  against  the  tree.  His  feet 
are  bound  with  a  piece  of  tough  bark.  The  bark  bears 
against  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  and  his  motions,  when 
climbing,  are  those  of  the  conventional  monkey  on  a 
stick.  It  is  not  difficult  to  climb  a  cocoanut  palm,  when 
one  knows  how,  but  the  result  to  an  amateur  is  a  lacer- 
ated chest,  suggesting  the  knee  of  a  small  boy  after  a 
bad  fall  on  a  rough  pavement. 


A  POLYNESIAN    BOY   OF   FOURTEEN 

He  had  been  riding  a  surf  board, 
but  finding  the  waves  too  small, 
he  was  returning  when  I  caught 
him  with  the  camera. 


BUTU   AND   MYSELF  ASHORE 
ON   PARAKI 

Rutu  carries  a  large  cocoanut 
crab  in  his  right  hand,  and  a 
brace  of  uia  birds  in  his  left.  My 
costume  is  more  suitable  for  the 
climate  than  Rutu's. 


A   POLYNESIAN   BOY  OF   NINETEEN    YEAIiS 

He   is  wearing  the  conventional  pareu  of  scarlet  calico. 


A  PORTION  OF  THE   NURSERY  OF  GOLDEN   BROWN   BOYS 
ME  ON   HIKUERO 


AND  GIRLS   WHO   WELCOMED 


I  had  endeavoured  to  photograph  these  enthusiasts  in  their  native  costume — 
their  golden-brown  bodies  but  partially  clad  in  scarlet  parous,  loin  cloths. 
But  noting  my  preparations,  the  multitude  melted.  They  wanted  to  be  photo- 
graphed badly,  but  they  felt  it  was  due  to  themselves  to  be  dressed  more 
fashionably.  This  is  the  result.  It  might  interest  you  to  know  that  the  child 
on  the  extreme  right  is  the  gentleman-in-waiting  to  the  taller  boy  on  the 
extreme  left,  who  is  a  prince  of  the  blood  royal.  He  is  paid  adequately,  and 
disobedience  receives  suitable  punishment. 


ONE  OF  THE  LANDING   PLACES  AT   HIKUERO 


Kroepelein 


The  houses  (fares)  would  seem  to  be  in  a  shocking  state  of  repair.  But  during 
most  of  the  year  the  Paumotun  lives  on  friendly  terms  with  the  elements. 
There's  always  friendly  cocoanut  palm  around,  from  whom  an  effective  and 
absolutely  water-tight  thatching  can  be  obtained  with  little  trouble  and 
no  expense. 


OVER  THE  REEF  141 

through  which  boats  may  pass  is  therefore  formed. 
Generally  the  greater  part  of  the  reef  bears  vegeta- 
tion, but  there  are  also  wide  flats  of  grey-white 
sand  and  shells  with  little  or  no  scrub.  Cocoanuts 
grow  well,  but  bananas,  oranges,  breadfruit  and 
such  like  refuse  to  flourish.  With  infinite  pains 
the  natives  try  to  grow  these,  but  seldom  with  suc- 
cess. On  some  islands  breadfruit  trees  have  been 
forced  to  bear,  but  a  cyclone  has  come  with  the 
consequent  immersion,  and  the  trees  have  died. 
So  that  it  is  safe  to  say  that,  except  for  the  un- 
interesting fruit  of  the  pendanis,  which  grows 
luxuriantly,  the  cocoanut  is  the  only  fruit  entirely 
to  be  depended  upon. 

.  I  commenced  to  stroll  along  the  edge  of  the 
lagoon — sometimes  wading  into  the  water,  finding 
the  soft,  white  sand  kindly  to  my  feet.  Upon  the 
bottom  lay  great  fat  black  things,  like  sausages, 
with  but  little  muscular  movement.  I  don't  know 
what  the  natives  call  them,  but  all  allege  that 
the  Chinese  regard  them  as  delicious.  I  offered 
one  to  my  Chinese  cook,  but  with  disgust  he  mur- 
mured, "  aita  maitai "  which  means  "  no  good." 
They  are  abominable  things,  anyway,  and  give 
a  faint  shudder  when  by  chance  one  puts  one's 
foot  on  them.  They  are  called  sea  cucumbers  in 
other  parts  of  the  world. 

As  I  strolled  along  in  the  shelter  of  the  scrub 
I  saw  a  sweet  wee  baby  bird — an  offspring  of  the 
snowy-white  angel  bird — sitting  seriously  on  a 


142  TAHITI  DAYS 

roughly-made  nest.  I  approached  closely,  and 
with  its  adorable  baby  eyes  it  looked  at  me  kindly. 
So  I  placed  it  on  my  hand,  a  new  experience 
which  it  failed  to  understand,  but  its  mother,  fly- 
ing near,  hardly  approved.  However,  it  sat  there 
and  then  produced  two  little  fish  from  its  throat 
onto  my  hand,  and  felt  more  comfortable  after 
that.  Very  gently  I  replaced  it  on  the  nest,  and 
I  hope  that  now  it  is  flitting  about  making  the 
balmy  air  of  Paraki  gay  and  cheerful  and  sugges- 
tive of  a  baby's  dream  of  heaven. 

Soon  I  came  to  a  cocoanut  plantation,  but  the 
ground  underneath  was  covered  with  sprouting 
nuts  and  much  rubbish,  so  that  walking  became 
again  difficult. 

I  tramped  about  scratching  my  sun-burnt  legs, 
but  happy  in  a  world  of  imagination.  And  I  can 
whisper  to  any  young  folk  who  may  read  this  that 
an  uninhabited  island  is  well  up  to  all  the  story 
book  descriptions.  The  climate,  while  scorching 
hot,  yet  seemed  dry  and  invigorating,  for  a  g&od 
strong  breeze  was  blowing,  lashing  the  lagoon  into 
small  white-topped  waves. 

Finally  I  found  myself  back  on  the  beach  from 
where  I  had  started.  The  sailors  were  cleaning 
an  immense  quantity  of  fish  with  their  fingers, 
eating  raw  the  livers  and  hearts — those  delicacies 
that  nestle  near  a  roast  chicken,  and  which  some 
people  like  immensely.  They  looked  savage,  so 
I  photographed  them. 


OVER  THE  REEF  143 

Afterwards,  once  more  roaming,  and  guided  by 
shouts  and  execrations,  I  managed  to  find  Willie 
and  two  of  the  sailors.  Willie  held  two  great 
cocoanut  crabs,  one  of  a  reddish  colour  and  the 
other  a  variegated  shade  of  deep  blue.  They  were 
both  dead,  but  still  moving  their  pincers  wearily. 
Willie  urged  me  to  join  them,  for  a  large  crab 
had  rushed  under  a  big  coral  rock  with  haste  and 
deadly  fear.  By  bending  down  I  could  see  a 
portion  of  its  abdomen.  Willie  prodded  this  and 
the  crab  passed  on  out  of  sight.  The  rock  was 
about  four  feet  high,  and,  being  circular,  its  dia- 
meter measured  at  least  eight  feet.  To  me  the 
crab  seemed  perfectly  safe.  Under  so  large  a  rock, 
a  crab  three  feet  long,  with  great  hairy  legs  and 
efficient  pincers,  would  have  little  difficulty  in  keep- 
ing both  Willie  and  me  at  bay.  So  I  remarked 
encouragingly : 

"  You  can't  get  that  crab,  Willie! " 

"  I  will!  I  will!  "  he  replied  petulantly,  looking 
at  a  sailor  on  the  other  side  of  the  rock  with  a 
long  stick. 

The  ground  upon  which  the  rock  stood  was  un- 
even, and  miniature  caverns  were  formed  under- 
neath. To  move  the  rock  was  impossible.  But 
Willie  knew  his  crab.  He  stuck  a  long  thin 
stick  into  the  suspected  refuge  of  the  crab,  who 
cleverly,  but  foolishly,  caught  it.  So  Willie  pulled, 
the  crab  advanced  a  little  and  then  decided  to  cut 
the  stick,  which  it  did  with  ease.  A  larger  stick 


144  TAHITI  DAYS 

of  stout  tough  wood  was  then  thrust  forward, 
and  then,  "  Coupez"  said  Willie,  as  with  one  pinch 
the  stick  was  cut.  But  a  continuous  succession 
of  annoying  sticks  drew  the  crab  nearer  and 
nearer,  until  the  poor  thing  exposed  its  flank,  on 
which  was  a  huge  beautiful  blue  hairy  leg.  With- 
out a  pause  Willie  seized  this,  keeping  up  a  con- 
tinuous bombardment  of  the  crab's  front,  to  keep 
the  big  pincers  engaged.  The  end  was  near.  Alas 
for  the  crab!  Finally  it  so  far  exposed  itself  that, 
at  a  shriek  from  Willie,  a  sailor  jabbed  it  in  a 
vital  spot,  and  the  crab  was  merely  a  wriggling 
mass  of  claws  and  pincers  with  little  hope  of  con- 
tinuing the  combat  intelligently. 

The  crab  measured  about  four  feet  over  all. 
These  cocoanut  crabs  are  found  in  large  quanti- 
ties on  the  uninhabited  islands  of  the  Paumotus. 
M.  LeRoy  superintended  the  cooking  of  the  four 
or  five  we  caught.  They  differ  from  the  ordinary 
land  crab  that  lives  a  muddy  existence  on  low- 
lying  land  edging  an  island,  which  is  precisely  like 
any  other  crab.  The  cocoanut  crab  has  a  long 
abdomen  and  an  additional  chestlike  arrangement 
tacked  on  to  the  rear.  In  this  it  is  alleged  to  store 
cocoanut  oil.  This  oil,  mixed  with  vinegar  and 
things,  makes  an  excellent  salad  dressing  for  the 
meat  when  cold.  As  food  it  is  appreciated  by  both 
whites  and  natives,  but  I  found  the  flesh  too 
coarse,  or  the  sea  too  rough,  when  finally  we  were 
ready  to  eat  the  few  we  caught. 


OVER  THE  REEF  145 

At  about  four  o'clock  it  was  time  to  return  to 
the  schooner  which  had  been  keeping  off  and  on 
during  the  day.  Getting  over  the  reef  into  the 
deep  sea  was  less  dangerous  at  this  time,  but  once 
more  a  suitable  wave  had  to  be  chosen,  and  then 
we  were  once  more  rowing  slowly  out  to  the 
Tereora  who  came  gracefully  round  to  meet  us. 

We  showed  Joe  our  spoil  and  he  remarked, 
'  What  about  the  '  poppi  liari*  you  red-haired  son 
of  a  sea  cook?"— this  to  Willie.  Willie  looked 
abashed  and  Joe  turned  to  me  and  said,  "  If 
I'd  let  the  old  woman  go,  she'd  have  brought  them 
all  right."  Which  was  very  likely  true  and  the  only 
approach  to  a  good  word  I  had  heard  uttered  on 
Marfa's  behalf.  Poppi  hari  is  the  liquid  con- 
tained in  the  green  cocoanut. 

Finally,  after  supper,  as  we  sat  smoking^in  the 
cabin,  M.  LeRoy  having  returned  to  his  lowly 
couch,  Joe  said,  "  Well,  lieutenant,  did  you  enjoy 
your  desert  island?  How  would  you  like  to  be 
left  behind  there?" 

And  I  said,  "  Immensely." 

"For  how  long?"  he  returned. 

"  For  six  hours,  or  perhaps  eight,  alone,  but  with 
a  cheery  party,  a  gun  or  two,  some  fishhooks  and 
a  few  spears,  six  weeks  would  suit  me  fine.  But 
no  more! " 


CHAPTER  XV 

HIKUERO,  THE  PEARL  ISLAND 

WE  left  Paraki  at  four-thirty,  and  for  the  first 
time  a  fair  breeze  helped  us  along,  and  as  the 
distance  between  Paraki  and  Hikuero  is  but  forty 
miles,  we  easily  reached  our  destination  at  an  early 
hour  the  next  morning. 

I  had  been  told  that  more  than  two  thousand 
people  inhabit  Hikuero  during  the  pearl  diving 
season,  but  a  first  glimpse  of  the  island  made  me 
wonder  where  they  all  lived.  It  seemed  but  an 
attempt  at  an  island,  a  sort  of  remnant  of  land 
which  nature  had  intended  to  submerge  alto- 
gether. However,  this  impression  was  modified 
when  we  drew  close  to  the  leeward  side,  where 
four  other  schooners  were  sailing  off  and  on.  Ac- 
tually, Hikuero  is  but  a  poor  atoll,  and  would 
hardly  bear  enough  cocoanuts  to  keep  twenty 
people  clothed  and  fed.  For  long  stretches,  the 
reef  is  but  coral  sand.  However,  the  lagoon  is 
large  and  deep,  and  consequently  the  pearl  shell 
are  found  in  abundance. 

Seven  days  had  elapsed  from  the  day  we  left 
Papeete,  and  it  was  impossible  not  to  share  the 
elation  of  Marfa  and  the  other  passengers  when 

146 


HIKUERO,  THE  PEARL  ISLAND     147 

we  were  at  last  ready  to  land.  A  deck  passenger 
pays  ten  francs  a  day  for  his  passage,  and  the 
shorter  the  voyage  the  less  he  has  to  pay.  Sail- 
ing vessels  are  irritating  under  these  circum- 
stances. 

I  endeavoured  to  go  ashore  in  mufti,  knowing 
that  otherwise  a  sensation  would  be  created,  and 
that  all  the  small  girls  and  boys  would  follow  my 
footsteps  with  their  attendant  dogs,  but  I  was 
forced  to  don  uniform.  However,  I  polished  my 
belt  and  buttons  and  hoped  we  would  go  over  the 
reef  successfully.  We  did,  but  I  was  not  allowed 
to  wade  across  the  pool  on  the  reef  shelf.  Peeno 
was  chosen  to  carry  me,  so  I  cast  myself  upon  his 
great  back,  while  he  waded  heavily  over  the  sharp, 
pointed  coral  gravel.  As  wre  approached  the  land- 
ing, a  crowd  gathered  and  to  these  people  Peeno 
communicated  the  news  that  a  cf  Raatira  Paratane" 
a  British  general,  was  about  to  place  his  foot  upon 
the  soil  of  Hikuero.  A  wild  excitement  took  pos- 
session of  the  small  crowd,  and  they  stared  with 
much  interest.  Poor  dears,  they  had  not  received 
any  Cox  and  Company  cheques,  neither  had  they 
been  strolling  down  Piccadilly  during  the  days  of 
war.  Otherwise  their  excitement  would  have  been 
less  intense. 

When  Peeno  had  finally  deposited  me  on  the 
coral  gravel,  I  looked  about  and  found  myself  at 
the  approach  to  an  avenue  of  cocoanut  trees,  down 
which  a  veritable  nursery  of  brown  babies  of  all 


148  TAHITI  DAYS 

ages  was  approaching.     Those  who  could  speak 
rushed  at  me  with  cheerful  "  Eoranas." 

Finally,  Willie  and  I  commenced  to  walk  along 
the  avenue  followed  by  many  small  boys  and  girls 
— and  their  dogs.  I  begged  Willie  to  take  some 
steps,  which  he  did  by  speaking  harshly  to  the 
young  enthusiasts,  while  I  made  a  mental  decision 
to  get  back  onto  the  vessel  to  change  into 
mufti. 

The  village  on  Hikuero  is  sweetly  pretty.  Take 
a  strip  of  land  about  one  mile  long  and  about  one 
quarter  of  a  mile  wide;  cover  this  with  white 
coral  sand  and  small  stones;  dot  about  as  many 
tall  cocoanut  palms  as  you  possibly  can,  leaving 
space  for  a  long  regular  avenue  in  the  centre;  in 
the  midst  of  these  construct  irregularly  built  palm 
leaf  houses;  supply  numbers  of  white-dressed 
women  and  scarlet  pareued  men;  have  plenty  of 
adorable  brown  boys  and  girls  running  about; 
make  your  sky  as  blue  as  it  possibly  can  be,  fur- 
nished with  great  white  billowy  clouds ;  on  one  side 
have  a  sandy  white  beach  being  kissed  by  a  blue- 
green  lagoon  and  the  other  side  attacked  with  fury 
by  great  rollers;  and  you  have  the  inhabited  por- 
tion of  Hikuero,  and  indeed  the  inhabited  portion 
of  most  of  the  Paumotus. 

As  we  strolled  along  the  avenue  I  saw  in  the 
distance  a  majestic  form  as  of  a  highland  chief 
in  white  linen  reviewing  his  troops.  This  turned 
itself  into  the  dignified  person  of  Captain  W. 


HIKUERO,  THE  PEARL  ISLAND     149 

Brander  of  the  Kaeo.  He  at  once,  to  my  great 
pleasure,  assumed  control  of  my  movements  during 
the  rest  of  my  stay  on  the  pearl  island.  I  have 
before  told  you  about  Captain  Winnie  but  perhaps 
have  not  mentioned  that  he  comes  from  an  old 
Scotch  family  in  Bamfshire,  nor  that  he  possesses 
an  eighth  of  Tahitian  blood.  Which  is  an  irresist- 
ible combination. 

He  introduced  me  to  the  celebrities  of  the  place 
and  we  called  at  the  French  administrative  office, 
and  found  a  gendarme  with  a  swollen  jaw,  the 
outward  and  visible  sign  of  an  inward  gnawing 
toothache.  There  are  no  dentists  living  at  Hiku- 
ero. 

The  gendarme  was  as  charming  as  a  Frenchman 
can  be  in  spite  of  his  swollen  face,  but,  because 
of  the  strain  put  upon  him,  we  soon  withdrew. 
Captain  Brander  then  led  me  to  his  house,  the 
only  two-storied  building  in  Hikuero,  and  pos- 
sessing two  rooms  and  a  kitchen.  Here  I  con- 
fided to  him  that  I  must  get  back  onto  the 
schooner  to  change  into  mufti.  The  constant 
enthusiasm  my  uniform  provoked  was  growing 
trying. 

So  once  more  braving  the  surf,  I  returned  to 
the  Tereora  and  had  breakfast.  We  fed  on  the 
birds  that  M.  LeRoy  had  shot  badly  and  cooked 
wonderfully.  He  had  superintended  their  skin- 
ning, had  soaked  them  in  vinegar  and  then  stewed 
them.  They  were  delicious.  During  the  meal 


150  TAHITI  DAYS 

a  boat  arrived  with  a  note  from  M.  LeRoy  who 
had  gone  ashore.  It  ran: — 

"  Please  supply  the  bearer  with—- 
Two straws  of  rice. 

Two  sacks  of  flour. 

Two  dozen  tins  of  salmon,  and  charge  it  to 
my  account." 

"  Good  heavens!  "  said  Captain  Joe. 

"  He's  buying  his  baby,'r  I  replied  carelessly. 

"  You  mean  he  thinks  he  is,"  replied  Joe.  "  He 
won't  get  that  baby." 

"  Oh,  yes  he  will,"  I  replied.  "  I  was  there 
when  he  landed,  Joe.  It  was  amusing.  LeRoy 
stepped  ashore  and  was  greeted  by  a  woman  who 
was  holding  by  the  hand  a  charming,  piquant 
faced,  bright-eyed  little  boy.  '  Whose  boy  ? '  he 
asked.  '  Yours  '  said  the  woman,  *  I  am  his  feed- 
ing mother.'  LeRoy  then  commenced  a  business 
discussion  and  he  afterwards  told  me  that  he 
would  take  the  baby  to  the  Marquesas  with 
him." 

"  Still  I  am  willing  to  bet  you  a  fiver  he  won't 
get  that  baby,"  said  Joe.  But  I  refused  the  bet, 
for  I  knew  something  about  babies  in  the  Cook 
and  Society  Islands. 

You  see,  women  don't  fall  in  these  islands  as 
our  poor  women  fall  and  decay.  They  rise. 

Giving  birth  to  a  baby  girl  lends  an  added  im- 
portance to  a  Kanaka  woman,  but  when  she  pro- 
duces a  boy,  her  position  is  second  to  none. 


HIKUERO,  THE  PEARL  ISLAND     151 

As  on  Raratonga,  so  it  was  in  the  Paumotus,  the 
same  glorious  love  for  babies. 

I  remember  during  the  dark  days  of  the  epi- 
demic on  Tahiti  receiving  into  the  hospital  two 
dying  women,  sisters,  and  both  beautiful.  With 
them  was  a  thin  little  boy.  Seeing  that  but  a 
few  minutes  might  elapse  before  the  death  of 
the  women,  I  endeavoured  to  remove  the  small 
boy.  But  the  attempt  was  met  with  so  much 
opposition  on  the  part  of  the  dying  women,  that 
I  had  to  leave  him  with  them.  After  a  time  the 
mother  of  the  small  boy  became  unconscious,  and 
the  sister  promptly  and  greedily  clasped  the  boy 
to  her  breast,  whispering  words  of  comfort.  She 
had  always  been  jealous  of  her  sister's  treasure. 
At  last  he  was  going  to  be  hers. 

The  mother  died,  and  as  we  carried  her  body 
out  to  the  room  set  apart  for  the  dead,  her 
beautiful  hair  touched  the  ground. 

Hardly  an  hour  passed  before  the  sister  jshowed 
signs  of  dying.  Finally,  she  was  unable  to  move 
her  head,  but  with  her  great  eyes  turning  towards 
the  little  mite,  she  begged  us  to  look  after  him. 
We  assured  her  that  we  would,  and,  with  her  hand 
holding  that  of  the  little  boy,  she  passed  away. 

We  then  carried  him  into  the  main  ward,  but 
he  commenced  calling,  "Maa-maa!  Maa-maa! " 
At  once  every  woman  in  the  ward  demanded  him, 
and  it  was  difficult,  without  causing  heart  burning, 
to  choose  a  suitable  mother. 


152  TAHITI  DAYS 

However,  we  chose  a  woman  who  seemed  to  be 
convalescent,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  boy  was 
peacefully  sleeping  in  her  arms.  But  unfortu- 
nately, the  sister  of  the  new  mother,  lying  in  the 
cot  next  to  her,  became  very  ill  during  the  night 
and  finally  rushed  out  and  died  in  delirium,  with 
the  result  that  the  fever  of  the  new  mother  de- 
veloped, and  she  also  died. 

The  small  boy  could  not  understand  the  situa- 
tion. We  placed  him  in  a  cot  by  himself. 

This  love  for  babies  is  so  intense  amongst  the 
people  inhabiting  these  islands  that  a  white  man 
has  no  chance  of  obtaining  control  of  his  children 
unless  he  has  married  their  mother.  By  French 
law  the  mother  has  supreme  control,  and  although 
she  will  often  agree  to  give  up  the  baby,  when  it 
comes  to  the  actual  moment  of  parting,  she  simply 
cannot. 

Hence  it  was  not  safe  to  take  Joe's  bet,  although 
LeRoy  had  been  optimistic  about  getting  his 
child.  Incidentally,  a  native  woman  will  look  after 
a  half-white  baby  with  the  greatest  of  care.  She 
will  clothe  him,  uncomfortably,  in  European  cloth- 
ing, and  will  even  take  pains  to  have  him  well 
educated  if  possible. 

After  breakfast,  garbed  in  the  more  suitable 
white  linen,  I  once  more  landed,  and  found  my- 
self again  in  the  kindly  hands  of  Captain  Brander. 

We  strolled  along  to  the  small  store  repre- 
senting his  firm  on  Hikuero,  and  found  gathered 


HIKUERO,  THE  PEARL  ISLAND     153 

here  several  trusty  fellows  with  whom  we  gladly 
drunk  weak  American  beer  from  San  Francisco. 

Outside  the  store,  flopping  about  the  ground, 
were  many  baby  frigate  birds.  A  schooner  had 
visited  a  neighbouring  atoll  where  these  birds 
breed.  They  were  immense  and  seemed  savage, 
but  were  merely  demanding  food.  Having  been 
fed  many  times  a  day  by  their  mothers,  their  suf- 
fering must  have  been  great.  The  natives  buy 
these  birds  for  food,  but  are  often  too  soft-hearted 
to  kill  them.  They  are  easily  tamed,  and  are  quite 
willing  to  spend  the  rest  of  their  lifetime  attached 
to  a  native  household.  Here  they  are  savagely 
affable  to  their  friends,  but  a  stranger  desiring  to 
stroke  them  should  wear  mailed  gloves.  A  tame 
frigate  bird  is  provided  with  a  red  streamer  at- 
tached to  his  wings,  so  that  when  hunting  on  the 
lagoon  he  is  safe  from  sportsmen. 

The  men  in  the  store  were  all  traders  and  their 
conversation  was  diverting. 

The  old  axiom  that  two  of  a  trade  seldom  agree 
does  not  apply  on  Hikuero  where  the  most  cordial 
relations  exist  between  the  traders. 

It  had  better  be  explained  here  that  the  object 
of  the  trader  is  not  to  sell  the  natives  merchan- 
dise for  money,  but  rather  to  buy  from  the  native 
the  produce  of  the  islands.  Copra,  the  dried  flesh 
of  the  cocoanut,  is  the  principal  product,  and  as  the 
uses  of  the  cocoanut  have  become  more  clearly 
understood,  the  cocoanut  palm  has  been  cultivated 


154  TAHITI  DAYS 

extensively.  An  island  trading  store  is  little  more 
than  a  collecting  station  for  the  copra  although  it 
displays  to  the  native  the  many  desirable  things 
he  can  obtain  for  his  copra.  Unfortunately  for 
him,  it  allows  him  to  mortgage  his  crop  a 
season  ahead,  for  the  French  also  regulate  the 
making  of  copra,  opening  only  one  portion  of  an 
island  at  a  time.  It  is  presumed  that  most  people 
know  that  the  seasons  do  not  affect  the  cocoanut 
palm.  It  continues  to  drop  nuts  week  after  week 
until  the  day  comes  when,  tall  and  gaunt,  and 
tired  of  giving  everything  that  a  man  needs  for 
clothing  and  sustenance,  its  rosette  of  green  be- 
comes brown,  and  it  bids  the  world  farewell. 
Although  hundreds  of  people  pass  beneath  its 
shade,  although  thousands  of  heavy  nuts  drop 
from  a  considerable  height  onto  the  ground  below 
with  a  heavy  thud,  I  have  never  heard  of,  and  no 
one  that  I  enquired  from  has  heard  of,  a  man  or 
woman  being  hit  by  a  nut.  The  natives  explain 
that  the  cocoanut  has  two  eyes,  the  windows  of  a 
soul  not  malignant. 

The  Chinese  are  ubiquitous  in  the  Society 
group;  there  is  no  island,  no  matter  how  remote, 
that  has  not  a  Chinese  store,  and  John  Chinaman 
will  undersell  his  white  rival.  To  the  native  he  is 
more  restful,  more  delightful  than  a  white  man. 
A  native  can  go  into  a  Chinese  store  and,  lolling 
over  the  counter,  demand  to  be  shown  all  the 
goods.  He  can  call  the  Chinaman  "  Tinto,"  which 


HIKUERO,  THE  PEARL  ISLAND     155 

has  a  contemptible  sound.  He  can  spend  hours 
in  a  Chinese  store  and  the  Chinaman  never  ob- 
jects. Why  should  he?  But  the  white  trader 
stands  no — what  he  calls—  "  nonsense."  "  Why 
should  I  ? "  he  says.  Hence  the  disease,  having 
no  remedy  away  from  Paris,  continues,  and  will 
be  fatal,  finally. 

'  This  is  a  regular  mining  camp,"  said  one  man. 

'  Yes,  I  can  see  that,"  I  replied.  "  How  many 
murders  do  you  have  a  week?"  Just  a  few 
months  before  I  had  spent  a  delightful  day  in  an 
American  oil  town  where  the  weekly  average  of 
murders  was  high. 

However,  my  question  was  received  with  amaze- 
ment. "  None,"  one  man  replied.  ;<  Why,  last 
night  a  woman  rolled  over  onto  her  baby  by  mis- 
take, and  a  mighty  wailing  at  once  ensued,  so 
that  an  entire  district  was  kept  awake.  There 
will  be  no  diving  from  that  district  for  two  days." 
This  trader  went  on  to  state  that,  a  few  days  be- 
fore, some  mutton  arrived  for  him  from  Tahiti 
in  an  impossible  condition,  so  that  his  servant 
was  forced  to  cast  it  into  the  sea.  The  following 
morning  there  was  a  great  commotion  on  the 
beach.  One  woman  shouted  that  she  could  see  a 
dead  man  floating  on  the  waves.  Soon  the  whole 
population  lined  the  beach.  "A  man!  a  man!" 
they  shouted.  They  don't  like  violent  deaths  at 
Hikuero. 

It  was  a  privilege  to  meet  these  men. 


156  TAHITI  DAYS 

Here  were  the  island  traders  that  one  had  so 
often  read  about.  Hikuero  is  a  Mecca  for  them. 
They  come  chiefly  to  buy  pearl  shell,  and  some- 
times, with  any  luck,  to  buy  pearls ;  but  these  latter 
generally  get  into  the  hands  of  specialists  who  are 
willing  to  give  the  market  price. 

I  had  settled  myself  comfortably  on  a  kerosene 
case,  with  my  feet  against  a  ledge  on  the  wall, 
and  my  back  against  the  table  edge,  when  a  na- 
tive gendarme  arrived,  and  with  many  smiles  began 
a  discussion  with  Captain  Brander.  At  the  end 
of  this  conservation,  which  consisted  of  combined 
French  and  English,  and  in  which  Captain 
Winnie  seemed  to  be  unwillingly,  yet  politely, 
granting  a  favour,  I  was  informed  that  the  women 
folk  of  one  district  had  decided  to  give  me  a  small 
official  welcome,  and  indeed  were  even  then  met 
together  at  the  gendarmerie  awaiting  our  appear- 
ance. 

At  the  gendarmerie  we  found  the  swollen-faced 
gendarme  on  duty,  poor  man,  and  a  large  crowd 
of  native  women  dressed  in  their  best  clothes. 
They  gazed  upon  us  with  obvious  disappointment 
and  Winnie  muttered  in  my  ear,  "  You'll  have  to 
get  back  into  uniform,  old  chap." 

Finally  a  young  man  of  pleasing  appearance 
stepped  forward  and  read  a  pretty  speech  in 
French.  I  replied  in  English  with  Captain 
Winnie  as  interpreter.  Two  cases  of  pearl  shell 
were  presented  to  me  while  I  wondered  what  I 


"YOU'RE  NO  LONGER  ONE  OF  six  MILLION;  YOU'RE  THE 

WHITE  MAN — the  WHITE  MAN" 


Copyright,  Kroefelein 
MAKING   COPRA 

The  scene  is  not  one  of  hustle  and  industry.  No  one  in  the  South  Seas  is  ever  In  a 
hurry.  On  the  right  are  the  husks  of  cocoanuts  from  which  the  white  flesh  of  the  nut 
has  been  removed.  The  man  on  the  left  is  bringing  in  nuts  which  have  been  split  for 
some  days,  and  having  been  allowed  to  dry  in  the  sun,  stretched  on  a  line  between  two 
stakes,  the  white  flesh,  seen  just  behind  the  man  in  the  centre,  is  removed  quite  easily. 
The  man  in  the  centre  is  wearing  the  uniform  which  the  French  supply  to  the  young 
natives  during  their  time  of  military  service.  It  was  obviously  designed  in  Paris  with 
little  thought  of  the  Society  Islands  climate. 


KISHKBMEN  RETURNING 

The  man  on  the  extreme  left,  with  his  head  hidden  by  the  man  with  the  hat,  gives  a 
good  impression  of  the  magnificent  physique  of  the  Polynesian.  This  physical  stand- 
ard Is  still  general  throughout  the  islands,  but  those  signs  of  physical  decadence  which 
begin  under  civilization  among  native  races  are  beginning  to  be  discernible. 


'• 


THE   VILLAGE  ON   HIKUERO 

The  pretentious  house  in  the  foreground  was  occupied  by  a  pearl 
buyer  from  Paris.  This  was  the  last  photograph  I  managed  to 
take  with  my  camera  after  its  immersion  in  the  lagoon.  I  had 
cleared  away  the  mechanism  behind  the  lens,  and  had  endeavoured 
to  make  exposures  by  using  the  brass  head  of  a  cartridge  as  a  cap. 
I  made  many  exposures,  but  this  picture  was  my  only  result  beyond 
cloudy  effects. 


By   Courtesy   of  the  American   Museum  of  Natural  History,   New    York 


A    NATIVE  OF   FAGATAU 

He  shows  the  splendid  physique  of 
the  Polynesian.  Like  many  of  his 
race,  now  that  civilization  has 
made  rigid  physical  development 
unnecessary,  there  is  a  certain 
softness  discernible. 


A   TYPE  OF  POLYNESIAN   DIVEB 

This  man  shows  intelligence  and 
perhaps  potential  cruelty.  The 
camera  may  be  to  blame,  since  it 
invariably  causes  the  Polynesian 
to  spread  over  his  otherwise 
kindly  face  a  certain  fierceness 
and  rigid  determination. 


TENUAHA  ON   THE  VERANDAH   AT  FAGATAU 

The  quilt  hanging  behind  is  called  a  tafefa.  Native  women  spend  much  of 
their  time  making  these.  Sometimes  the  colours  blend,  sometimes  they  don't, 
and  a  startling  battle  of  colour  is  the  result.  The  only  apparent  objection 
the  Tahitian  woman  had  to  the  war  was  that  the  coloured  material  used  for 
the  tafefa  and  imported  from  America  and  England,  had  deteriorated  in 
quality;  the  colours  were  apt  to  run.  The  bamboo  walls  of  the  house  make 
windows  unnecessary,  since  both  light  and  ventilation  is  assured. 


Copyright,  Kroepelein 


AN  OCTOPUS  IMPALED  ON  A  SPEAR 

As     described     in     the     text,     an     octopus     is     not     difficult     to     catch. 
Stretched  out,  this  fellow  was  over  six  feet  from  tentacle  to  tentacle. 


HIKUERO,  THE  PEARL  ISLAND    157 

should  do  with  them.  I  then  shook  hands  with 
the  ladies,  and  after  they  had  arranged  them- 
selves around  a  wheelbarrow  containing  the  shell, 
and  had  turned  their  usually  sweet  vivacious  faces 
into  solemn  fierce  death  masks,  I  photographed 
them. 

After  this,  everybody,  including  Willie,  the 
supercargo,  who  had  appeared  towards  the  end  of 
the  little  ceremony,  demanded  that  I  should  once 
more  get  into  uniform.  I  refused  firmly,  because 
I  was  getting  bored  with  going  over  the  reef,  and, 
'  Won't  it  do  tomorrow  ?  I  want  to  swim  now," 
I  begged.  But  Winnie  spoke  native  to  the  super- 
cargo who  disappeared,  and  after  two  hours  re- 
appeared with  portions  of  my  uniform  which  I 
was  compelled  to  put  on.  Things  grew  serious. 

Then  I  met  Marfa  with  a  wreath  of  coloured 
silk  roses  around  her  hat.  She  at  once  annexed 
me  and  asked  me  to  come  to  her  lare.  I  willingly 
accepted  her  invitation;  there  was  a  suggestion  of 
peace  here;  but  she  made  a  point  of  walking  me 
through  every  street  and  every  avenue  as  a  man 
walks  a  tame  bear. 

Everywhere  crowds  of  men  and  women  stepped 
forward,  for  the  divers  had  now  returned  from 
their  work  and  made  me  presents.  Sometimes  a 
pretty  wreath  of  cleverly  strung  shells  would  be 
given,  but  more  often  a  brace  of  particularly 
beautiful  pearl  shells  formed  the  present.  One 
man  gave  me  solemnly,  and  quite  naturally,  six 


158  TAHITI  DAYS 

pearls,  two  of  which  were  as  large  as  peas.  To 
his  consternation  I  endeavoured  to  return  them, 
but  without  success.  Meanwhile,  Marfa  ran 
about  amongst  the  crowd  returning  to  me  every 
now  and  then,  embracing  me  a  little,  and  en- 
deavouring to  show  off  my  points.  I  have  a 
shrewd  suspicion  that  she  had  arranged  the  whole 
thing,  and  had  canvassed  the  people  beforehand. 

When  at  last  I  returned  to  the  bosom  of  Cap- 
tain Winnie,  I  possessed  three  cases  of  pearl  shell, 
many  wreaths,  and  a  large  number  of  small 
pearls. 

Actually  the  matter  was  quite  impersonal.  The 
natives  of  the  Society  group  love  the  British 
almost  as  much  as  they  dislike  the  French,  even 
when  a  fair  percentage  of  French  blood  flows  in 
their  veins,  and  I  was  merely  receiving  the  expres- 
sion of  their  love  for  cf  Paratane  "  —Great  Britain, 
which  is  a  great  love,  and  inexplicable. 

At  about  six  o'clock  we  had  dinner  in  the  open. 
The  lamps  tended  to  go  out  occasionally,  but 
finally  we  settled  down  to  an  excellent  meal.  We 
ate  young  frigate  bird  well-cooked,  turtle  beef 
steak,  and  a  few  other  things  in  addition  to 
ordinary  white  wine  or  rum,  if  one  desired  it. 
Around  us  were  hundreds  of  lamps  burning 
amongst  the  palm  trees,  while  from  every  dis- 
trict came  the  sound  of  weird  native  singing. 

Hikuero  would  seem  to  be  a  cheerful  place. 
Prices  are  high  for  most  things,  but  not  too 


HIKUERO,  THE  PEARL  ISLAND     159 

high,  for  are  not  the  Chinese  a  reality?  The 
"  good  old  days "  of  trading  have  passed,  and 
now  a  trader  must  be  careful.  He  must  some- 
times be  businesslike.  I  gathered  that  for  a  man 
to  start  trading  on  his  own  account  would  surely 
lead  to  his  ruin.  The  thing  to  do  is  to  attach 
oneself  to  one  of  the  big  firms  and  let  it  get 
ruined. 

The  sale  of  spirits  is  strictly  prohibited,  but 
the  Chinese  are  alleged  to  sell  perfumes  to  the 
natives  for  drink.  Perfectly  awful  for  the  in- 
sides  of  the  native! 

The  French,  very  wisely,  control  the  pearl 
fishing  industry.  Diving  machines  are  not  used, 
for  the  license  is  so  costly  that  their  operation 
would  be  impracticable.  Diving  for  pearl  shells 
is  permitted  for  a  certain  number  of  months  in 
each  year,  and  only  one  island  is  open  at  a  time. 
Nowadays,  the  time  set  apart  is  approximately 
between  the  beginning  of  July  and  the  end  of 
November.  In  former  days  work  was  carried 
on  during  the  very  hot  weather  between  December 
and  April.  This  seems  to  have  been  found  con- 
venient until  a  great  cyclone  came  upon  the  na- 
tives at  Hikuero  while  the  diving  was  in  full 
swing.  Nearly  a  thousand  people  were  drowned. 

It  is  said  that  a  cyclone  visits  an  island  of  the 
group  once  in  every  generation,  when  many,  if 
not  all,  the  people  are  swept  either  out  to  sea,  or 
into  the  lagoon  where  they  swim  for  a  long  time 


160  TAHITI  DAYS 

before  they  are  either  drowned  or  broken  on  the 
rocks.  There  would  seem  to  be  but  little  warning 
given,  although  an  intelligent  man,  possessing  a 
barometer,  can  gain  a  forecast  several  hours  be- 
fore the  cyclone  arrives.  This  would  allow  him  to 
reach  the  safer  side  of  the  atoll  in  time.  Nowa- 
days all  the  inhabited  islands  have  barometers,  and 
the  loss  of  life  will  be  less  during  future  cyclones. 

The  first  sign  of  a  cyclone  is  given  by  the 
barometer  dropping  quickly  and  rapidly,  accom- 
panied by  a  leaden  sky,  and  sometimes  a  heavy 
swell.  This  continues  for  several  hours  until  the 
swell  breaks  into  an  angry  sea  which  will  com- 
mence breaking  well  up  on  the  cocoanut-clad 
reef.  Then  is  the  time  to  take  what  steps  there 
are  left  to  be  taken.  Generally  the  cocoanut  tree 
is  the  only  hope.  Its  safety  lies  in  the  fact  that 
it  has  plenty  of  give. 

So  imagine  finding  yourself  clinging  to  a  harsh 
circular  trunk  of  a  tree  that  is  bending  over  to  its 
extreme  limit,  while  at  your  feet  surf  is  breaking 
and  smashing  every  human  possession  within  eye- 
sight. 

You  cling  there  desperately — the  wind,  having 
sprung  into  a  fierce  gale,  is  so  strong  that  it  keeps 
you  in  position  against  the  trunk.  You  see  other 
men  and  women  up  other  trees.  You  wonder  how 
they  managed  to  climb  so  well.  For  during  a 
cyclone  quite  elderly  fat  men  will  at  least  attempt 
to  climb  cocoanut  trees.  It  is  not  very  difficult  to 


HIKUERO,  THE  PEARL  ISLAND     161 

climb  a  cocoanut  tree,  but  if  you  examine  your 
chest  and  legs  afterwards  you  will  see  much  blood, 
and  soon  you  will  feel  pain,  which  will  be  but 
little  relieved  by  the  cocoanut  oil  that  the  native 
woman  rushes  to  give  you.  Still,  for  a  man  past 
forty,  climbing  a  cocoanut  tree  calls  forth  much 
effort. 

The  wind  blows  with  great  fury,  and  at  your 
feet  a  mass  of  surf  is  gushing  and  smashing  and 
a  deadly  fear  possesses  your  mind  as  gradually 
your  tree  shows  signs  of  bending  too  far.  Are 
you  going  to  join  the  men  and  women  that  you 
have  watched  being  swallowed  up?  Actually  you 
are  in  mid-ocean,  out  of  sight  of  land  except  for 
the  upper  portions  of  the  cocoanut  palms  that  are 
being  swirled  about. 

The  danger  lasts  from  three  to  six  hours,  and 
if  you  are  fortunate,  at  the  end  of  the  storm  you 
descend  from  your  tree,  incapable  of  going 
through  a  similar  experience  again.  Then  you 
may  see  a  picture  of  horror,  death  and  destruction 
all  around  you,  from  dead  fish  to  dead  women 
and  children. 

Owing  to  the  number  of  people  on  the  island 
at  the  time,  the  cyclone  at  Hikuero  was  particu- 
larly deadly.  The  cocoanut  trees  even  today  are 
still  bent  over,  almost  touching  the  ground,  al- 
though they  have  started  to  ascend  once  more. 
But  they  have  not  recovered  from  the  shock,  and 
bear  but  badly. 


162  TAHITI  DAYS 

It  was  difficult  for  the  frightened  survivors  to 
remove  the  decayed  matter.  First,  the  corpses, 
some  washed  up  on  the  further  shore  of  the 
lagoon,  had  to  be  disposed  of  quickly,  for  the  heat 
was  intense.  Then  the  dead  animals  and  fish  had 
to  be  buried  or  burnt.  The  whole  island  was  cov- 
ered with  broken  coral  and  this  has  an  unpleasant 
odour  when  left  for  even  a  short  time  away  from 
the  sea.  For  in  addition  to  the  dead  coral  insects, 
amongst  the  coral  branches  there  are  innumer- 
able shell-fish  such  as  sea  urchins  and  the  like. 

There  are  many  hairbreadth  escapes  related  of 
the  last  Hikuero  cyclone,  but  the  crowd  of  women 
and  children  placed  on  the  Mormon  church  roof 
for  safety  did  not  escape,  when  traders  safely 
clinging  to  cocoanut  trees  saw  one)  gigantic  sea 
sweep  them  all  away.  One  of  these  women  clung 
to  her  baby,  and  to  her  astonishment,  found  her- 
self swimming  out  in  the  lagoon  with  what  she 
regarded  as  a  dead  baby.  She  thought  of  aban- 
doning it,  but  a  canoe  drifted  near.  Swimming 
to  this  she  threw  the  wee  body  in  and,  joy  of 
joy,  it  screamed!  She  got  safely  to  shore  all 
right. 

Another  woman,  with  less  luck,  was  swept, 
evidently  clinging  to  some  wreckage,  to  an  un- 
inhabited island  seventeen  miles  away  called 
Tekokoto.  Here  she  rested  for  a  time,  being 
regarded  as  dead  by  her  surviving  relatives  at 
home.  Finally  she  found  a  damaged  canoe 


HIKUERO,  THE  PEARL  ISLAND     163 

washed  up  on  the  island,  and  in  this  she  com- 
menced to  paddle  home,  but  after  she  had  trav- 
elled twelve  miles  the  canoe  became  useless,  and 
she  was  forced  to  swim  the  remaining  five  miles. 
Under  normal  conditions  this  would  have  been 
impossible,  but  it  is  probable  that  the  cyclone  had 
either  destroyed  or  frightened  the  sharks  out  of 
the  vicinity. 

A  well-known  novelist  wrote  the  story  of  the 
Hikuero  cyclone,  and  found  much  to  suit  his  love 
of  the  melodramatic  and  highly-coloured.  That 
his  description  is  vivid  there  can  be  no  doubt,  but 
his  story  about  the  red-haired  Jew  has  always 
seemed  to  the  traders  a  display  of  bad  taste. 

The  red-haired  Jew,  Levy,  is  a  well-known 
character  in  the  Society  group,  but  while  many 
may  find  fault  with  his  method  of  trading,  no  one 
can  prove  anything  against  his  honour.  His  wife, 
Madame  Levy,  is  particularly  interesting  and 
considered  the  most  brilliant  pearl  buyer  in  the 
group.  In  her  beautiful  schooner,  the  Hinano, 
she  goes  to  the  pearl  island  every  year.  It  is  said 
that  she  bears  with  her  many  sacks  of  silver  dol- 
lars to  pay  for  any  pearls  that  may  be  found. 
The  other  traders  pay  in  French  notes,  but 
Madame  Levy  hands  out  a  sack  of  silver  dollars, 
and  therefore  often  wins  in  the  selling  competition 
that  ensues,  the  moment  it  is  known  that  a  good 
pearl  has  been  found. 

On    the    whole    life    for    two    or    three    days 


164  TAHITI  DAYS 

in  Hikuero  was  comfortable.  There  were  millions 
of  persistent  flies  which,  however,  disappeared  with 
the  sun,  and  but  few  mosquitoes.  Fresh  water  is 
a  difficulty,  for  that  obtained  from  the  water  holes 
is  brackish,  although  the  natives  drink  it.  The 
traders  drink  water  carried  from  Tahiti.  Usually, 
cocoanut-water  forms  the  drink  of  the  natives  of 
these  islands,  but  the  two  thousand  inhabiting 
Hikuero,  during  the  diving  season,  could  drink  all 
the  cocoanuts  on  the  island  in  a  short  time,  making 
life  for  the  local  inhabitants  uncomfortable  during 
the  rest  of  the  year.  Fruit  has  to  be  conveyed 
from  either  Papeete  or  the  Marquesas,  although 
sometimes  a  schooner  will  arrive  with  oranges 
from  the  Gambia  group.  Oranges  are  sold  for 
ten  cents  each,  and  a  banana,  when  it  reaches 
Hikuero,  costs  even  more.  All  the  people  are 
wealthy  since  there  is  plenty  of  well-paid  work 
for  every  one.  A  woman  cleaning  shell,  which 
consists  in  a  process  of  chipping  the  outside  and 
gossiping  to  all  around,  earns  five  dollars  a  day. 
The  result  is  that  a  trader  can  sell  expensive 
jewelry  and  frocks,  and  let  me  whisper — some  of 
the  fair  ladies  wear  corsets  on  Sundays,  which  are 
very  costly.  I  know,  because  I  lived  in  the  room 
where  one  firm  sold  them. 

There  is  one  motorcar  on  the  island  which  a 
genius  imported  and  it  paid  for  itself  in  a  month. 

On  Sundays,  the  ladies  dress  themselves  gor- 
geously in  tight-fitting  silk  costumes,  and  solemnly 


HIKUERO,  THE  PEARL  ISLAND     165 

ride  for  a  mile  along  the  avenue  in  the  Ford  car, 
much  to  the  envy  of  their  poorer  friends. 

It  is  all  very  cheerful,  and  if  the  big  billowy 
clouds  could  see,  a  picture  of  joy  and  happiness 
would  be  presented  to  their  benignant  eyes. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

PEARL  DIVING 

THE  pen  fails,  where  the  brush  succeeds;  there  is 
an  opportunity  for  an  artist,  willing  to  ignore  the 
hula-hulas  and  the  sensuous  things  which  French 
artists  love  to  portray,  if  he  would  go  to  Hikuero, 
and  paint  the  start  for  the  pearl  fields. 

The  whole  thing  seems  a  festive  procession,  a 
crusade  of  beauty,  which  perhaps  is  fitting,  since 
these  men  are  going  forth  to  disobey  nature's 
"  thou  shalt  not,"  to  brave  the  dangers  of  the 
deep  in  order  that  you  and  I  may  use  pearl- 
handled  knives,  or  that  some  pretty  lady  may  add 
extra  pearls  to  the  necklet  around  her  throat.  Of 
course  the  divers  are  not  interested  in  pearl- 
handled  knives,  and  they  are  not  concerned  with 
pearl  necklets.  The  pearl  shell,  as  such,  is  inter- 
esting because  its  sale  brings  a  surprising  amount 
of  money,  with  which  much  food  may  be  pur- 
chased for  the  fare,  and  many  clothes  may  be 
bought  for  the  vahine.  Vahines  simply  adore 
white  embroidered  muslin;  they  love  to  possess 
fierce  corsets,  and  they  will  sell  their  souls  for  a 
fare  decorated  with  a  great  bedstead,  bright  pic- 
tures and  linoleum.  The  vahines  don't  wear  the 

166 


PEARL  DIVING  167 

corsets  often,  only  on  Sundays  at  Hikuero,  when 
they  ride  in  the  Ford  motorcar.  Then  they  wear 
the  corsets  and  suffer  physical  torture,  but  enjoy 
the  feeling  of  being  fashionable  so  dear  to  the 
heart  of  every  female,  whether  she  lives  in  Park 
Lane,  Seven  Dials,  or  the  Cannibal  Islands. 

When  the  diving  season  opens  it  is  unneces- 
sary to  go  far  from  the  village,  but  as  the  season 
progresses  a  diver  must  go  well  out  into  the 
lagoon  if  he  would  find  plenty  of  good  large 
shell.  During  my  visit  to  Hikuero  the  diving 
season  was  drawing  to  a  close;  it  was  therefore 
necessary  for  the  divers  to  make  use  of  the  motor- 
boats  placed  at  their  disposal  by  the  traders.  The 
big  trading  firms  supply  the  launches  to  those 
divers  willing  to  pledge  tn"e  sale  of  their  pearl 
shell. 

As  I  stood  on  the  beach  waiting  to  be  carried 
out  to  the  launch  placed  at  my  disposal  by  Cap- 
tain Brander,  five  large  motorboats  took  up  posi- 
tions about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  out  on  the 
lagoon.  To  each  of  these  was  being  attached  a 
long  line  of  canoes.  A  rope  from  the  stern  of  the 
launch  passed  from  canoe  to  canoe.  At  least  fifty 
canoes  were  attached  to  a  launch,  and  when  finally 
a  signal  was  given  to  start,  the  whole  thing  sug- 
gested a  kite  with  a  particularly  long  and  gaily- 
decorated  tail. 

A  good  stiff  trade  wind  was  blowing  from  the 
other  side  of  the  lagoon,  lashing  the  blue  water 


168  TAHITI  DAYS 

into  white-tipped  waves.  The  canoes,  painted  a 
shade  of  turquoise  blue,  were  bobbing  up  and 
down,  conquering  each  wave  but  threatening  to 
submerge  their  bows  almost  any  minute. 

In  each  canoe  were  two  persons,  the  diver  and 
his  assistant,  who  is  sometimes  his  wife,  but  more 
often  another  man.  The  diver,  now  a  very  impor- 
tant person,  lay  at  full  length  across  the  thwarts 
of  the  canoe,  dressed  merely  in  a  scarlet  pareu 
with  yellow  flowers  printed  on  it.  With  his  finely- 
shaped  head  covered  with  soft  curly  hair,  his  well- 
cut  features,  his  magnificent  chest  and  beautifully 
modelled  limbs,  he  presented  a  picture  not  easily 
forgotten.  He  sometimes  wore  a  pink  rose  be- 
hind one  of  his  ears. 

The  five  regular  lines  of  bobbing,  dancing 
canoes  continued  their  progress  across  the  lagoon 
—a  flamboyant,  cheerful,  gorgeous  mass  of  colour 
and  happiness. 

The  lagoon  at  Hikuero  is  light  green  and  blue 
for  the  most  part,  but  in  shallow  portions  the  blue 
becomes  more  definite,  through  which  the  salmon- 
pink  coral  bottom  can  be  seen.  Across  the  sky 
of  deepest  blue,  the  trade  wind  was  driving  large 
fleecy  clouds;  the  rosettes  of  deep  green  palm 
leaves,  which  topped  the  reckless,  erratic  trunks  of 
the  cocoanut,  were  shimmering  in  the  sunlight, 
while  the  sand  on  the  lagoon  shore  was  whiter  than 
snow  on  a  prairie. 

Having  boarded  the  launch,  we  were  soon  dash- 


PEARL  DIVING  169 

ing  up  and  down  between  the  lines  of  canoes, 
while  the  women  blew  kisses  and  the  divers  waved 
greetings.  After  a  time  the  canoes  commenced  to 
cut  themselves  adrift  from  the  launches,  and  while 
the  divers  were  getting  ready  to  commence  their 
day's  work,  we  decided  to  bathe. 

Choosing  a  place  where  an  added  fuss  to  the 
water  suggested  a  shallow  portion  of  the  lagoon, 
for  I  desired  to  see  the  bottom  where  the  pearl 
shell  grows,  we  anchored  the  launch,  and,  in  a  few 
minutes,  accompanied  by  a  diver  who  felt  it  his 
duty  to  look  after  us,  we  were  soon  swimming 
about  in  the  warm  water.  Incidentally  on  these 
occasions  it  is  necessary  to  wear  a  bathing  suit  of 
sorts.  Although  there  were  no  women  within 
miles,  the  launch  conductor  insisted  upon  our 
wearing  pareus.  A  native  will  as  soon  think  of 
putting  his  head  in  a  fire  as  of  swimming  or  bath- 
ing naked. 

Unfortunately  the  very  shallowness  of  the 
water  made  diving  difficult,  for  the  choppy  sea, 
even  at  some  depth,  affected  the  water  in  the 
caverns  we  desired  to  enter,  so  that  when  we  re- 
turned to  the  surface  our  bodies  were  in  a  bloody 
condition. 

Both  the  young  New  Zealand  trader,  who  ac- 
companied me,  and  I  wore  divers'  spectacles,  which 
fit  so  tightly  around  the  eyes  that  a  small  water- 
tight chamber  is  formed.  With  these  it  was  pos- 
sible to  see  plainly  under  water.  In  fact,  the 


170  TAHITI  DAYS 

multi-coloured  coral  and  the  fish  living  in  its 
branches  were  magnified  to  such  an  extent,  and 
the  beauty  was  so  wonderful,  that  if  it  were  not 
for  the  necessity  of  obtaining  air,  one  might  have 
wandered  for  ever  in  this  garden  of  nature. 

It  was  with  some  regret  that  we  finally  left  the 
water,  to  find  ourselves  streaming  with  blood, 
where  the  harsh  coral  had  wounded  us.  But  the 
launch  captain  rubbed  machine  oil  over  our 
wounds  with  a  piece  of  dirty  waste,  which  made 
an  interesting  colour  scheme,  even  if  it  failed  to 
relieve  the  pain. 

The  launch  once  more  got  under  way,  dashing 
through  the  waves  and  soaking  us  with  spray, 
until  we  came  up  with  the  divers  who  had  now 
commenced  their  work.  Around  us  the  hundreds 
of  canoes  were  bobbing  and  bowing  to  their  moor- 
ings in  a  most  frivolous  and  determined  manner. 
We  paused  here  and  there  and  once  a  young 
diver  came  on  board,  and  having  greeted  me 
kindly,  solemnly  handed  me  two  small  pink  sil- 
very pearls.  "  Tera  poi"  these  are  pearls,  he  said. 
It  was  difficult  to  accept  so  valuable  a  present, 
but  noting  the  anxious  look  in  the  eyes  of  the 
giver,  I  gathered  that  a  refusal  would  indicate 
a  lack  of  appreciation. 

The  launch  captain  said  that  he  would  take  us 
to  a  "  number  one  "  diver,  and  after  a  short  time 
we  came  up  with  this  gentleman. 

He  was,  like  his  brothers,  a  magnificent  speci- 


PEARL  DIVING  171 

men  of  humanity,  and  my  expression  of  admira- 
tion merely  brought  from  the  young  New  Zea- 
lander  his  ideas  about  the  natives  generally. 
'  These  men  are  finely  built,  it  is  true,"  he  said ; 
"  but  they  have  no  stamina,  they  can't  last  out." 

Our  diver  was  sitting  on  the  thwarts  of  his 
canoe  taking  deep  breaths,  making  strange  whis- 
tling sounds  and  long  drawn-out  cries.  He  would 
expand  his  huge  chest  until  one  expected  it  to 
burst,  and  then  the  air  would  be  emitted  in  a  long 
terrible  breath,  like  the  more  impetuous  breathing 
of  a  man  suffering  from  asthma.  This  prepara- 
tion of  the  chest  for  the  long  time  spent  under 
water  is  peculiar  to  the  Paumotun  divers.  Cap- 
tain Joe  tells  me  that  it  is  affectation;  it  possibly 
has  a  suggestive  value. 

Each  diver  has  a  method  of  his  own,  but  a  long 
dreary  wailing  noise,  like  a  lost  soul  in  agony, 
seemed  general.  Around  us,  midst  the  flop  flop 
of  the  waves,  midst  the  voice  of  the  wind  on  the 
lagoon,  the  wailing  could  be  heard. 

Our  diver  had  a  clean-looking  Swede  for  an 
assistant  whose  admiration  for  his  master  was 
great.  He  readily  agreed  to  allowing  us  to  sit 
in  the  canoe  while  the  diver  was  working.  I 
watched  with  great  interest  and  some  anxiety. 

Having  expanded  his  chest  a  few  times,  emit- 
ting the  strange  whistling  noises,  and  giving  a 
few  muttered  directions  to  the  Swede,  he  placed 
between  his  toes  a  stout  white  cord  to  which  a 


172  TAHITI  DAYS 

heavy  piece  of  lead  was  attached.  Once  more 
expanding  his  chest  and  adjusting  his  diving  spec- 
tacles, he  grasped  the  cord  with  one  hand,  while 
the  other  held  his  nose,  and  soon  he  disappeared, 
feet  first.  Looking  over  the  side  of  the  canoe  he 
could  be  seen  rapidly  disappearing  into  space. 
Brown  on  the  surface,  he  became  green,  then 
yellow  and  white,  and  finally  disappeared  from 
view. 

An  anxious  two  and  a  half  minutes  ensued, 
during  which  time  I  searched  the  depths  until 
something  white  appeared,  which  gradually  formed 
into  the  figure  of  our  diver  as  he  came  up  the 
rope  of  his  basket,  hand  over  hand,  and  finally 
grasped  the  gunwale  of  the  canoe.  He  seemed 
completely  exhausted,  worn  out  and  unable  to 
speak  for  several  minutes.  He  made  three  more 
dives  before  coming  on  board  to  rest  for  twenty 
minutes. 

I  looked  at  him  closely — worn-out  and  fatigued 
—so  that  the  words  of  the  New  Zealander 
seemed  futile.  '  These  men  have  no  stamina,  they 
can't  last  out." 

I  wonder  what  he  calls  the  strength  of  will  and 
purpose  that  permits  a  man  to  do  this  work.  But 
he  will  go  on  making  his  futile  remarks,  for  such 
is  the  fashion  amongst  white  men,  and  returning 
to  New  Zealand,  if  drink  and  other  things  do  not 
kill  him,  he  will  say  that  he  made  his  money  trad- 
ing in  the  Paumotus,  but  it  will  never  occur  to 


PEARL  DIVING  173 

him  that  his  money  was  gained  primarily  by  the 
strength  and  stamina  of  the  Paumotun  divers. 

Pearl  diving  is  indeed  a  hazardous  undertaking 
and  requires  a  great  amount  of  stamina.  It  is 
true  that  the  divers  are  almost  amphibious  from 
birth,  but  it  is  also  a  fact  that  a  diver  is  always 
within  one  minute,  sometimes  one  second,  of 
death.  They  told  me  at  Hikuero  that  a  diver 
fills  his  chest  with  air,  and  that  during  the  minutes 
he  is  working,  he  slowly  emits  the  carbon  dioxide 
through  his  ears.  I  have  been  assured  since  by 
learned  folk  at  Cambridge  that  this  is  impos- 
sible unless  the  ear  drums  are  perforated.  The 
Paumotun  divers  did  not  tell  me  whether  they 
perforated  their  ear  drums  or  not.  They  told  me 
that  three  minutes  was  the  limit  of  most  men. 

A  diver  always  has  a  cord  basket  on  the  sea 
bottom  beside  him.  A  line  passes  from  the  basket 
to  the  canoe  above.  Much  time  is  saved  in  the 
descent  by  placing  a  weight  between  the  toes.  At 
the  bottom  he  finds  his  basket,  and  he  must  always 
work  within  sight  of  it,  because  the  cord  bearing 
the  weight  has  been  drawn  up  and  properly 
stowed  by  the  assistant  in  the  canoe.  If  the  shells 
are  found  clustering  around  small  rocks,  the 
operation  is  simple,  and  the  basket  is  soon  filled, 
but  when  they  lie  singly  the  job  is  more  difficult. 
The  diver  must  know  to  within  a  few  seconds  the 
time  necessary  for  his  reappearance  on  the  sur- 
face, because  if  he  does  not  reach  the  surface  be- 


174  TAHITI  DAYS 

fore  all  the  air  is  emitted,  he  is  unable  to  rise  and 
will  sink  like  a  rock.  Sometimes  a  diver  has  nearly 
reached  the  surface  when  the  assistant,  watching, 
will  observe  him  disappear  like  an  arrow.  Then 
the  assistant,  often  his  wife,  will  dive  over  and 
get  him.  He  may  possibly  never  dive  again  if  he 
is  alive  when  she  gets  him  on  board.  Generally, 
however,  he  is  paralysed  in  some  of  his  limbs  for 
a  year  or  so.  If,  by  chance,  he  loses  sight  of  his 
basket,  he  is  practically  a  dead  man;  for  to  reach 
the  surface  he  must  climb  hand  over  hand  up  the 
basket  rope  during  the  beginning  of  the  ascent. 
This  rope  also  shows  him  direction,  for  I  gather 
that  after  leaving  the  sea  bottom  he  cannot  tell 
which  direction  to  swim.  A  diver  who  had  lost 
his  basket  has  been  seen  swimming  along  near  the 
surface  of  the  water  only  just  submerged  and  then 
sinking  like  a  rock.  They  call  the  condition  of 
collapse  after  the  exhaustion  of  all  the  air  in  a 
diver's  lungs,  "  aniania"  This  condition  some- 
times comes  on  the  moment  he  emerges.  If  he  is 
got  on  board  safely  he  is  like  an  extremely  drunk 
man,  limp  and  helpless.  The  divers  told  me  too, 
that  walking  on  the  sea  bottom  seemed  almost 
normal.  There  was  no  tendency  to  float  to  the 
surface. 

They  all  wear  a  glove  on  the  right  hand  in  order 
to  remove  the  shells  quickly  without  pain. 
Strange-looking  spectacles  are  worn  by  all.  They 
fit  tightly  onto  the  eyes  by  means  of  gutta-percha 


PEARL  DIVIXG  175 

rims  reinforced  with  thin  brass,  so  that  an  air- 
tight chamber  is  formed  around  each  eye.  All  the 
spectacles  worn  by  the  Paumotu  divers  are  made 
by  an  old  Spanish  lady  called  Mrs.  Smith,  who 
lives  at  Mangarewa.  She  has  the  complete 
monopoly,  although  she  lives  about  ten  days' 
schooner  journey  from  the  pearl-bearing  lagoons 
of  the  Paumotu  group. 

The  meat  of  the  shell-fish  tastes  something  like 
the  ordinary  clam  that  one  eats  in  a  restaurant 
in  New  York.  The  divers  take  home  a  pailful, 
but  the  French  insist  upon  the  fish  being  removed 
from  the  shell  before  they  are  brought  ashore. 
For  there  is  one  comfortable  word  common  to 
most  of  the  dialects  of  the  Society  group — eriana— 
which  means  bye-and-bye,  any  old  time  will  do. 
If  this  word  should  be  applied  to  the  removal  of 
the  flesh  from  the  pearl-shell,  Hikuero  would  be 
an  evil-smelling  place. 

Before  the  diver  hauls  up  his  anchor  and  pre- 
pares to  return,  he  opens  every  shell,  searches 
carefully  for  pearls,  scrapes  the  outside  of  the 
shell  roughly,  and  throws  overboard  the  meat  he 
does  not  require  for  domestic  consumption.  Apart 
from  the  prevention  of  unpleasant  odours  on  the 
island,  this  has  the  added  advantage  of  scattering 
the  shell  spawn,  and  the  pearl  fields  are  kept 
healthy. 

Arriving  ashore,  the  diver  at  once  sells  his  shell 
to  his  favourite  trader,  the  man  who  has  supplied 


176  TAHITI  DAYS 

him  towage,  who  in  turn  employs  a  dozen  women 
who  sit  round  a  heap  of  shell  gossiping,  chipping, 
and  receiving  five  dollars  a  day  for  their  work. 
The  trader  ships  the  shell  to  Papeete,  from  where 
it  is  sent  to  America  and  Europe,  and  becomes 
the  handles  of  fruit  knives,  buttons  and  many 
other  articles  more  ornamental  than  useful. 

An  unfortunate  accident  happened  when  I  was 
being  carried  ashore  from  the  launch.  My  camera- 
case,  containing  much  exposed  film  in  addition  to 
my  camera,  dropped  from  the  pocket  of  my  coat 
while  it  was  being  carried  by  a  boy,  and  fell  with 
a  splash  into  the  lagoon.  An  endeavour  to  clean 
the  camera  was  unsuccessful,  for  the  more  inti- 
mate portions  of  the  mechanism  became  coated 
with  salt.  The  result  is  that  I  have  no  photo- 
graphs of  the  diving. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
BREAKFAST  ON  HIKUERO 

IT  was  a  dignified  party  that  sat  down  to  break- 
fast in  the  little  fare  that  morning  on  Hikuero. 
Captain  Brander  occupied  the  position  of  honour 
at  the  head  of  the  table.  The  party  included  one 
or  two  Frenchmen,  an  American,  a  New  Zea- 
lander  and  a  few  half-castes  of  some  prominence. 
We  ate  lobster,  turtle  soup,  turtle  beef  steak, 
pork  cutlets,  salad,  asparagus,  and  rice  pudding. 
One  could  drink  rum  and  white  wine,  or  beer  from 
San  Francisco.  As  the  meal  progressed  the 
conversation  became  more  and  more  interesting. 
There  was  one  charming  man  present  called 
Pedro,  whose  Spanish  blood  was  shown  in  his  bright 
sparkling  eyes.  And  although  he  possessed  Eng- 
lish blood,  and  absolutely  no  French,  he  had 
adopted  all  the  French  charm  of  manner  and 
vivacity.  He  it  was  who  owned  and  partially 
commanded  the  small  schooner  that  arrived  at  the 
island  of  Mopelier  to  pick  up  the  copra  makers, 
only  to  find  the  German  commerce  destroyer 
Seadila  sitting  on  the  reef,  and  the  island  occupied 
by  the  German  pirate's  chief  officer  and  the  crews 
from  many  of  the  ships  that  had  fallen  a  prey 

177 


178  TAHITI  DAYS 

to  Von  Lucknow.  Von  Lucknow  himself  had 
gone  off  in  the  ship's  launch.  Perhaps  the  story 
is  so  well  known  that  it  hardly  bears  repetition 
except  that  Pedro's  story  is  more  truthful  than 
most  of  the  records  appearing  in  the  magazines 
of  that  day. 

The  schooner,  laden  with  much  desirable  mer- 
chandise, sighted  the  island  one  morning  very 
early,  and,  as  she  approached,  a  ship  could  be 
seen  piled  up  on  the  reef.  This  was  interesting 
since  it  presented  possibilities.  But  as  the  schooner 
drew  nearer  the  island,  a  boat  put  off  from  the 
reef  passage  and  came  quickly  towards  them. 
Wrecked  folk  are  invariably  impatient,  so  this 
did  not  astonish  Pedro,  but  as  the  boat  drew  nearer, 
the  native  captain  remarked,  "  What's  that  in  her 
bows?  It  looks  like  a  machine-gun."  "Rub- 
bish," said  Pedro,  "  it's  a  fishing  rod." 

"  It  is  a  machine-gun,"  said  the  captain. 

'  We  are  but  dead  men,"  said  the  crew  as  they 
jumped  overboard. 

"  I  can  see  men  lying  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat 
with  rifles,"  said  the  captain,  as  he  joined  the  crew 
in  the  water. 

All  hope  of  life  now  left  Pedro,  and  with  fear 
and  trembling  he  answered  the  questions  of  the 
German  officer  in  charge  of  the  boat,  which  had 
now  come  alongside.  The  schooner  was  taken 
without  a  blow  being  exchanged,  and  the  Ger- 
mans came  on  board,  some  with  revolvers,  others 


BREAKFAST  ON  HIKUERO        179 

with  ordinary  rifles.  The  crew  swimming  about 
were  ordered  to  return  to  the  schooner,  which 
they  did,  begging  for  mercy. 

Pedro  himself  was  very  frightened,  but,  muster- 
ing up  some  courage,  he  said,  "  Sir,  if  you  are 
going  to  kill  us,  will  you  please  do  it  quickly." 

But  the  German  officer  laughed  and  said,  "  You 
have  read  the  French  and  English  papers;  but 
we  are  not  pirates;  we  are  warriors." 

And  the  "  warrior  "  was  courteous  until  he  found 
some  New  Zealand  papers  in  the  cabin  which 
annoyed  him  so  much  that  he  was  compelled  to 
make  a  long  oration  in  English. 

One  of  the  German  sailors,  with  a  pathetic 
pleading  look  in  his  eyes,  asked  Pedro  if  he  had 
any  cigarette  papers.  Pedro  gave  him  a  packet, 
and  offered  him  more,  for  the  revolver  in  the  hand 
of  this  seaman  looked  ominous. 

The  German  officer  gave  a  receipt  for  the 
schooner,  and  Pedro  signed  a  declaration  stating 
that  the  ship  had  been  captured  according  to  the 
rules  of  modern  warfare. 

Upon  reaching  the  shore  the  Germans  prepared 
a  luncheon  of  turtle  beef  steak,  but  so  great  was 
the  fear  of  both  Pedro  and  his  captain  that  they 
could  eat  nothing. 

"  Isn't  the  food  good  enough  for  you? "  said 
the  German. 

Pedro  remarked  that  he  was  unhappy  about 
losing  his  schooner  and  its  cargo. 


180  TAHITI  DAYS 

'  You  should  be  glad  to  have  your  life,"  said  the 
German ;  "  today  there  are  many  children  in  Ger- 
many who  have  but  little  to  eat  owing  to  the 
accursed  English.  I  have  been  reading  your 
papers,"  he  continued,  "  and  they  lie.  Germany 
did  not  seek  this  war  and  she  is  in  the  right;  you 
must  know  that,  really." 

Pedro  gained  enough  courage  to  remark  that 
it  seemed  strange  that  all  the  world  should  be 
wrong,  and  Germany  alone  right. 

So  the  captain  took  him  outside  and  gave  him 
an  exhibition  of  revolver  practice,  which  so  startled 
him  that  he  decided  to  remain  as  quiet  as  possible. 

Six  hours  had  hardly  passed  before  the  Ger- 
mans were  ready  to  depart.  They  had  unloaded  the 
schooner,  and,  having  filled  her  with  ammunition 
and  stores,  they  destroyed  the  remaining  boats 
and  canoes  and  sailed  off  with  the  vain  hope,  it 
afterwards  transpired,  of  reaching  the  South 
American  coast. 

But  plenty  of  good  food  was  left  behind,  and 
at  this  time  the  turtle  were  passing  the  island, 
and  as  Mopelier  is  noted  for  the  quantity  of  fish 
living  inside  the  lagoon,  nobody  could  complain 
about  food  shortage.  The  magazines  tell  that  the 
people  on  the  island  were  left  to  starve,  but  Pedro 
says  that  this  was  far  from  true.  In  fact  the 
castaways  lived  in  great  luxury  but  no  content- 
ment, and  set  about  rebuilding  one  of  the  broken 
boats.  An  attempt  was  made  to  reach  an  in- 


BREAKFAST  ON  HIKUERO       181 

habited  island,  and  after  one  abortive  attempt, 
during  which  the  crew  suffered  great  hardship, 
a  second  attempt  succeeded  and  the  castaways 
were  taken  to  Papeete. 

There  was  one  woman  left  on  the  island,  and 
she  must  have  had  a  difficult  time,  but  Pedro  said 
that  she  lived  apart  with  her  husband,  being 
treated  with  great  respect. 

During  this  meal  I  told  of  my  intention  of 
leaving  the  Tereora  at  Fagatau,  but  my  friends 
expressed  doubts  as  to  my  being  able  to  get  away 
from  that  island.  However,  I  arranged  to  charter 
a  small  schooner  from  one  of  them  for  the  sum  of 
seventy  dollars — a  very  reasonable  price.  The 
schooner  would  call  for  me  in  three  weeks'  time. 
This  arrangement  was  eminently  satisfactory. 

We  discussed  the  French  administration  and 
they  all  admitted  that  in  many  respects  it  was 
excellent.  But  the  free  immigration  of  the 
Chinese  was  deplored.  They  regretted  this,  since 
it  made  trading  annoying  and  difficult,  but  while 
I  admit  that  they  have  a  grievance,  since  they  are 
honest  men,  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  a  greater 
wrong  is  being  done  to  the  Polynesian  race. 

For  the  Chinaman  seldom  brings  his  own 
women,  but  finds  it  more  convenient  to  take  a 
native  wife.  The  result  is  that  a  population  of 
half-Chinese  is  gradually  swamping  out  the  native. 
The  half-caste  native  and  Chinaman  is  not  an  un- 
pleasant looking  person.  He  seems  to  be  more 


182  TAHITI  DAYS 

like  his  mother  than  his  father,  and  except  a 
slight  narrowness  about  the  eyes,  he  is  difficult  to 
identify.  The  half-Chinese  girl  is  exquisitely 
pretty.  But  whether  handsome  or  homely,  they 
invariably  despise  their  fathers  and  treat  the  Chi- 
nese with  contempt,  and  become  annoyed  if  any 
one  mentions  their  paternal  origin. 

The  French,  I  understand,  owing  to  some  treaty 
obligation  with  China,  are  compelled  to  allow  the 
Chinese  to  enter  the  group,  hence  another  hundred 
years  will  find  these  islands  inhabited  by  a  Chinese 
race. 

But  as  governors,  the  French  are  extremely 
unpopular,  although  their  methods  seem  always 
very  polite  and  gentle.  The  thing  was  inex- 
plicable. 

An  extraordinary  contrast  was  presented  when 
one  talked  to  a  native  about  the  British  Empire. 
"  Ah!  Paratane — mcdtcd — maitai! "  was  the  in- 
variable response,  which  means,  "  Britannia — very 
good."  Always,  as  I  travelled,  elderly  natives 
would  ask  me  if  I  thought  England  would  take 
over  the  islands  after  the  war.  Sometimes  very 
forcible  epithets  would  be  used  against  France, 
and  always  the  contrast  between  that  country  and 
England  would  be  expressed—  "  Paratane.,  maitai; 
Farane,  aita-mmtai;  aita-maitai! "  Later  I  tried 
to  get  an  explanation  from  Tenuaha  but  this  was 
hardly  satisfactory.  He  said,  "  Well,  I  dunno — the 
Frenchman  he  tork,  tork  all  same  the  vahine,  he 


BREAKFAST  ON  HIKUERO        183 

wave  his  arms  much  and  look  silly,  but  always 
plenty  tork,  but  the  Englishman  he  say,  '  Gawd 
darm!' — and  finish." 

Perhaps  a  better  explanation  can  be  gained  by 
watching  a  British  native  together  with  a  Tahitian. 
The  Briton  at  once  affects  a  tremendous  superi- 
ority which  the  Tahitian  cannot  gainsay.  And  I 
suppose  the  power  of  force  is  bred  in  the  bones  of 
these  people.  If  it  were  possible  to  believe  that 
the  natives  of  the  Cook  Islands  appreciated  the 
careful  attention,  they  receive  from  New  Zea- 
land, the  situation  might  be  understood  more 
easily. 

Of  course  Captain  Cook  created  a  permanent 
impression  during  his  short  stay  on  Tahiti  and 
"  Kukkiti "  stands  for  a  very  great  chief,  if  not 
almost  a  god,  in  the  eyes  of  the  natives.  This  love 
which  the  Polynesians  have  for  the  British  is  real, 
and  is  not  mixed  with  fear. 

I  was  talking  to  a  charming  Roman  Catholic 
priest  who  had  been  transferred  from  the  Cook 
Islands  to  work  at  Hikuero.  He,  poor  man,  felt 
precisely  the  same,  and  with  reason.  For  France, 
by  disestablishing  the  monasteries,  had  thereby  pre- 
vented the  monks  from  educating  the  natives  in 
the  outlying  islands.  The  New  Zealand  govern- 
ment, on  the  other  hand,  not  only  treated  the 
priests  kindly,  but  supplied  them  with  drugs, 
school  buildings  and  any  assistance  they  re- 
quired. 


184  TAHITI  DAYS 

The  British  make  a  point  of  educating  the  native 
children  thoroughly,  but  as  far  as  I  could  judge, 
this  important  part  of  colonization  was  being 
neglected  by  France,  certainly  in  the  outlying 
islands. 

There  were  rumours  that  France  would  hand 
over  the  islands  to  America,  and  many  traders 
looked  upon  the  idea  as  sound.  The  mother  coun- 
try is  so  far  away,  while  America  is  near,  and 
of  course  under  the  Stars  and  Stripes  there  is 
not  the  slightest  doubt  but  what  the  natural  re- 
sources of  the  islands  would  be  better  developed. 
From  the  point  of  view  of  the  traveller,  the  islands 
would  lose  a  great  deal  of  their  charm  if  they 
ceased  to  be  under  the  French  flag.  For  even  the 
fiercest  objector  to  French  rule  amongst  the  na- 
tives owes  much  of  his  irresistible  charm  to  the 
very  French  influence  to  which  he  objects.  I  am 
not  sure  that  England  would  do  very  much  bet- 
ter than  France,  and  on  the  whole  I  dare  say  it 
would  be  better  for  the  Polynesian  to  work  out  his 
own  salvation. 

It  would  be  a  noble  philanthropic  work,  how- 
ever, for  a  few  wealthy  individuals  to  form  a  so- 
ciety having  for  its  object  the  resuscitation  of  the 
Polynesians  dwelling  in  these  islands.  It  might  be 
possible  also  to  save  the  remnant  of  the  Mar- 
quesans,  alleged  to  be  the  most  beautiful  race  of 
men  in  the  world. 

I  parted  from  my  friends  of  the  breakfast  table 


BREAKFAST  ON  HIKUERO       185 

with  regret,  and,  followed  by  several  men  bearing 
presents,  I  went  to  the  landing-place,  out  over  the 
reef,  to  the  Tereora,  where  I  found  Joe  waiting  for 
me,  and  M.  LeRoy  almost  in  tears  because  the 
woman  had  refused  to  give  him  his  little  boy. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
FAGATAU 

WITH  a  fair  breeze,  and  all  in  our  favour,  we  left 
Hikuero  at  about  four  in  the  afternoon,  firmly 
convinced  that  Fagatau  would  be  reached  within 
twenty-four  hours.  And  if  the  breeze  had  held, 
there  is  no  doubt  but  what  our  optimism  would 
have  been  justified.  But  towards  evening  the 
wind  changed,  and  the  next  morning  found  the 
Tereora  in  the  complete  possession  of  a  malignant 
head  sea  and  a  lordly  head  wind.  The 
Tereora  stood  up  to  it  magnificently,  but  a  stiff 
head  wind  on  a  schooner  is  not  enjoyable.  The 
only  man  who  can  enjoy  a  head  sea  is  the  fellow 
with  his  hand  on  the  tiller,  for  as  the  seas  roll 
by  and  the  wind  shrieks  through  the  rigging,  he 
can  be  as  rude  as  he  likes  to  the  poor  devils  stand- 
ing about  ready  to  obey  his  slightest  com- 
mand. 

A  head  wind  alters  the  temper  of  people.  It 
makes  them  argumentative,  contrary,  furious;  it 
raises  their  moral  standard;  it  develops  determina- 
tion or  obstinacy;  it  makes  people  uncomfortably 
wet;  it  churns  up  the  milk  of  human  kindness; 
their  minds  reflect  the  turmoil  around;  and,  as 

186 


FAGATAU  187 

there  is  little  peace  in  the  world  of  waters,  so  there 
seems  little  peace  in  the  world  of  men.  Still  it's  a 
fight — a  glorious  fight  in  some  ways;  and  there  is 
always  the  chance  of  turning  around  and  running 
with  it.  Which  is  not  the  way  of  the  best  seamen 
who  navigate  either  the  waters  of  the  deep  or 
the  waters  of  life. 

Gloriana  still  sat  out  on  the  counter,  one  boy 
sick,  the  other  singing  lewd  native  songs.  Lilian 
had  not  gone  ashore  at  Hikuero,  fearing  to  lose  her 
weak  sea  legs.  LeRoy  had  returned  to  his  lowly 
couch  on  the  floor  of  the  cabin;  his  wife  con- 
tinued her  conversation  with  the  Marquesan  crimi- 
nal. Life  continued  much  as  usual  except  that  the 
seas  seemed  to  grow  larger  every  day. 

And  this  was  the  smooth  tropical  sea  that  you 
and  I  have  read  about.  I  don't  advise  you  not 
to  go  to  sea  on  a  schooner.  I'll  go  again,  heaven 
help  me,  and  so  will  you  if  you  get  the  chance,  but 
dispossess  your  mind  of  the  idea  that  sailing  on  an 
island  schooner  is  highly  romantic  and  altogether 
delightful.  It  is  not.  It  is  the  most  boring  experi- 
ence imaginable.  It  is,  of  course,  tremendously 
jolly  landing  on  islands  and  all  that  sort  of  thing, 
and  the  stories  about  the  natives  and  the  tropical 
fruit  are  weak  compared  with  the  reality,  but  the 
actual  time  spent  on  the  schooner  is  highly  un- 
pleasant. 

'  Let  go  the  flying- jib,"  Joe  used  to  yell.  "  Let 
go  the  fly  ing- jib,  you  sons  of  red-haired  sea  cooks." 


188  TAHITI  DAYS 

Then  the  bobbing,  the  bending,  and  the  shaking 
would  go  on. 

After  three  days  of  very  heavy  weather  Joe  felt 
that  we  might  sight  Fagatau  any  minute.  He 
was  not  quite  sure  where  we  were,  but  with  his 
thumb  on  the  chart  he  worked  out  the  probabilities ; 
the  possibilities  were  left  to  the  imaginaton.  On 
the  fourth  day  the  weather  moderated  and  a  con- 
stant succession  of  persons  climbed  the  rigging, 
hoping  to  see  the  island.  Finally  at  about  three 
o'clock,  there  was  a  shout  from  a  native  up  the 
mast,  and  land  was  sighted. 

Joe  doubted  whether  we  would  make  the  island 
before  sunset.  However,  knowing  our  desire  to 
reach  land,  he  started  the  engine,  and  this  held 
the  schooner  further  up  into  the  wind.  Economi- 
cally it  is  extravagant  to  use  the  engine  during 
heavy  weather,  but  Joe  was  a  good  fellow,  and 
fortunately,  just  before  sunset,  a  boat  was  lowered 
away,  and  we  rowed  towards  the  usual  line  of 
surf.  Joe  decided  to  keep  off  and  on  until  the 
morning  for  it  is  impossible  to  work  cargo  after 
dusk  in  the  Paumotus. 

LeRoy,  his  wife,  Peeno,  and  one  or  fwo  natives 
also  landed.  The  beach  was  deserted,  for  the 
village  of  Fagatau  is  nearly  a  mile  distant  from 
the  landing-place.  It  was  apparent  that  the 
schooner  had  not  been  sighted.  However,  we 
commence^  to  thread  the  long  avenue  of  cocoanut 
palms  which  led  to  the  other  side  of  the  island,  but 


m- 

FAGATAU  189 

t  before  we  reached  the  village  it  was  quite  dark. 
During  the  walk  along  the  avenue,  LeRoy,  stood 
on  a  huge  land  crab,  and  its  death  -was  accom- 
panied by  an  unpleasant  crackling  sound.  ,„,;*. 

Finally  we  could  discern  lights  dotted  about 
amidst  the  trees,  and  the  barking  of  innumerable 
dogs -warned  the  people  that  something  extraordi- 
nary had  happened.  A  few  frightened  voices  chal- 
lenged us,  and  soon  a  large  number  of  children 
were,  .following  us.  I  was  led  to  the  house  of 
Tenuaha,  but  that  gentleman  was  not  in.  How- 
ever, a  few  young  people  dashed  off  to  tell  him 
that  a  white  man  had  arrived,  and  soon  a  young 
figure  came  dashing  along  towards  us.  It  was 
Tenuaha.  He  gave  me  a  French  embrace  that 
was  startling  though  comforting  after  the  schooner. 
"  So  you  have  come,  my  friend,"  he  said.  "  Ah, 
it  is  very  good.  I  waited  a  long  time  but  decided 
that  the  journey  would  be  too  difficult ;  and  -I  was 
very  sad.  The  house  is  your  house.  I  have  noth- 
ing. I  am  now  very  poor ;  for  all  that  I  have  is 
thine." 

After  this  pretty  speech  we  entered  the  house. 

The  father  of  Tenuaha,  a  decent  Englishman, 
married  a  native  woman  of  a  neighbouring  island, 
producing  three  sons.  He  grew  wealthy,  for  his 
wife  possessed  much  land,  and  he  owned  the  only 
store  on  the  island.  Unfortunately  a  cyclone  de- 
vastated the  island  and  Tenuaha's  father  found 
himself  penniless.  For  a  cyclone  not  only  destroys 


190  TAHITI  DAYS 

buildings,  but  it  removes  every  cocoanut  from  the 
trees  and  so  disturbs  the  growth  of  the  palms  that 
they  refuse  to  bear  at  all  well  for  almost  a  decade. 
Hence  in  one  day  a  man's  entire  property  may  be 
completely  lost. 

Tenuaha's  father  left  the  island  with  his  family 
and  managed  to  obtain  a  position  in  a  large  store, 
but  his  spirit  was  broken  and  I  doubt  if  he  will  ever 
recover.  I  know  little  about  his  other  sons,  but  to 
possess  the  friendship  of  Tenuaha  is  a  privilege. 

He  is  about  six  feet  tall  and  has  the  appear- 
ance of  a  Greek  athlete.  Although  his  ideas  are 
magnificent,  his  personality  is  such  that  his  suc- 
cess in  the  small  world  of  the  Society  Islands  is 
well  assured.  He  possesses  wonderful  business 
acumen  combined  with  a  sweet  and  gentle  nature 
that  is  irresistible.  His  manners  are  invariably 
courteous  to  his  friends.  To  the  natives  he  is  a 
grande  seigneur  and  they  like  him  all  the  better 
for  it. 

As  the  agent  of  a  large  French  trading  com- 
pany he  was  sent  to  Fagatau  to  establish  a  store. 
There  were  several  difficulties,  not  the  least  being 
the  existence  of  four  other  stores.  Two  were  kept 
by  Chinamen,  one  by  a  native  and  the  other  by  an 
Alsatian  trader.  While  Fagatau  is  fairly  large 
it  was  obvious  to  Tenuaha  that  the  island  could  not 
support  so  many  traders,  but  Tenuaha  determined 
to  survive.  He  made  his  store  attractive,  in  fact 
his  goods,  all  of  the  very  best,  were  kept  in  the 


FAGATAU  191 

most  beautiful  order.  The  store  looked  precisely 
like  the  house  of  an  efficient  trader  in  any  large 
town.  The  floor  was  covered  with  a  simple  lino- 
leum which  was  invariably  well  polished.  At  his 
store  everything  could  be  obtained,  but  it  is  doubt- 
ful whether  the  natives  would  have  patronized  him 
more  than  the  others  if  he  had  not  taken  one  or 
two  steps  that  insured  success. 

He  married  the  wealthiest  girl  on  the  island, 
who  was  also  the  prettiest,  and  he  commenced  to 
train  her  to  be  thoroughly  clean  and  rigidly  tidy. 
I  don't  know  whether  he  loved  his  wife,  but  she 
adored  him.  She  was  well  disciplined,  and  never 
dreamt  of  desiring  to  eat  with  him,  or  of  regarding 
herself  as  his  equal  in  any  way.  She  was  in  a  way 
a  devoted  slave,  and  at  times  suggested  a  beautiful 
dog  with  a  kindly  but  firm  master.  That  her  mar- 
riage to  Tenuaha  had  been  of  great  advantage  to 
that  young  man  never  occurred  to  her. 

With  the  natives,  Tenuaha  maintained  a  con- 
descending and  haughty  attitude.  They  were  his 
inferiors,  and  they  knew  it.  He  was  never  familiar 
with  them.  To  them  he  was  an  ornament  to  the 
community,  and  they  treasured  him  as  such. 

The  French  very  wisely  have  regulated  the 
copra  trade,  only  allowing  the  nuts  to  be  taken 
from  certain  portions  of  the  island  at  a  time.  The 
result  is  that  when  distant  portions  of  the  island  are 
open,  it  is  necessary  for  the  people  to  travel  some 
miles.  Many  of  them  have  canoes,  some  of  which 


192  TAHITI  DAYS 

have  sails,  but  with  some  courage  Tenauha  ordered 
a  large  motor  launch  to  be  sent  to  Fagatau.  The 
engine  gave  him  some  trouble,  but  the  natives 
found  the  launch  of  great  assistance.  To  be  trans- 
ported across  the  lagoon  a  fare  of  ten  cocoanuts 
was  charged — roughly  one  franc — and  it  allowed 
Tenuaha  to  be  on  the  spot.  It  also  added  to  his 
magnificence  and  made  people  glad  to  sell  him  their 
copra. 

Most  traders  urge  the  natives  to  take  payment 
for  their  copra  in  merchandise,  but  not  so  Tenuaha. 
He  told  them  that  he  preferred  to  give  them 
money,  that  his  goods  decorated  his  shop,  but  that 
to  nice  people  he  would  be  willing  to  give  goods 
in  exchange  for  copra.  And  his  merchandise  spoke 
with  a  seductive  voice. 

Xo  one  quite  understood  where  he  had  got  these 
ideas  from,  not  even  his  father,  who  was  interested, 
amused  and  somewhat  frightened.  For  he  feared 
that  Tenuaha  was  trying  to  run  before  he  could 
walk.  I  was  also  anxious,  but  my  difficulty  in 
making  him  understand  anything  subtle  saved 
him  from  advice.  In  America,  or  Europe,  Tenu- 
aha would  become  a  great  man.  Some  one  would 
surely  marry  him  there,  for  a  more  beautiful  or 
a  more  charming  person  it  would  be  impossible  to 
meet.  Perhaps  you  will  say,  "  But  what  about 
his  wife  at  Fagatau?"  Oh,  she'll  merely  say, 
"  Aita  pea-pea"  it  does  not  matter. 

But  to  return  to  the  first  night  on  Fagatau. 


FAGATAU  193 

LeRoy  was  received  with  some  courtesy  by 
Tenuaha,  and  he  and  his  little  vahine  promptly 
turned  in  on  a  mat  on  the  veranda.  In  the  living- 
room  Marafa,  Tenuaha's  wife,  was  ordered  to  keep 
the  gramophone  going.  The  house  was  sur- 
rounded by  natives  who  peered  through  the  win- 
dows tremendously  interested.  The  reaction  from 
the  tossing,  heaving  schooner  created  a  desire  to 
sleep  on  a  mat  on  the  cool  veranda.  But  being 
a  white  man  of  rank,  I  simply  had  to  sleep  on  a 
huge  feather  mattress  with  sheets  and  blankets  in 
a  modern  bed.  It  was  impossible  to  assure 
Tenuaha  that  I  desired  him  to  treat  me  as  his 
brother,  that  ceremony  would  be  boring,  but  this 
he  failed  to  understand. 

The  next  morning,  dressed  in  white  linen,  I 
went  out  on  to  the  veranda  to  find  M.  LeRoy 
waiting.  Tenuaha  had  been  up  for  some  hours, 
but  he  had  desired  M.  LeRoy  to  explain  that  he 
would  return  very  soon.  We  sat  down  to  coffee 
and  warm  rolls.  The  veranda  was  decorated  with 
brightly  coloured  quilts,  Chinese  lanterns  hung 
everywhere,  and  just  off  the  veranda  were  two 
flag-staffs.  A  large  Union  Jack  flew  from  one, 
while  a  French  Tricolour  hung  from  the  other. 
The  air  seemed  filled  with  excitement.  "  Is  some 
one  going  to  be  married?  "  I  asked  LeRoy.  "  Oh 
dear,  no,"  he  replied,  "  all  this  is  for  you,  and  if 
you  would  like  to  give  pleasure  you  will  change 
into  uniform  at  once."  "The  devil!"  I  thought, 


194  TAHITI  DAYS 

"I've  come  here  to  see  a  remote  island  and  to 
study  the  inhabitants;  apparently  the  inhabitants 
are  going  to  study  me,  and  with  a  vengeance." 
However,  I  changed  into  uniform  and  a  few  min- 
utes afterwards  Tenuaha  returned.  There  was 
going  to  be  a  great  reception,  and  it  seemed  that 
it  would  be  a  good  idea  to  remain  indoors  as 
much  as  possible  until  the  time  came  when,  in  full 
glory,  I  would  burst  upon  the  population. 

It  was  about  three-thirty  in  the  afternoon  that 
the  exercises  commenced.  I  had  been  sitting  in  the 
living-room  with  Tenuaha,  when  the  sound  of  a 
band  was  heard,  and  when  looking  along  the  ave- 
nue, ten  natives  could  be  seen  solemnly  marching 
towards  the  house  followed  by  the  chief,  the 
catechist  and  several  of  the  elders  of  the  island. 
The  natives  were  playing  accordions,  tin  cans, 
and  guitars.  The  chief  looked  both  anxious  and 
solemn;  his  feelings  might  be  likened  unto  a  man- 
ager of  a  production  the  afternoon  of  a  first  night. 
At  about  twelve  paces  from  the  house  a  signal  was 
given,  and  I  solemnly  descended  the  steps  and  ap- 
proached with  Tenuaha.  This  young  man  was 
dressed  in  a  smartly  cut  light  tweed  suit,  a  small 
straw  hat,  and  a  silver-topped  cane.  I  took  up  a 
position  between  the  chief  and  the  catechist,  and, 
the  band  striking  up,  we  solemnly  marched  towards 
the  village  green  or  the  place.  As  we  approached 
the  chief's  house  that  gentleman  grew  more 
anxious.  Occasionally  we  halted,  and  then  some 


FAGATAU  195 

one  called  out  a  direction  from  amidst  the  trees  in 
the  distance.  The  chief  then  advanced  a  few  more 
steps  so  that  we  had  a  better  view  of  the  avenue 
where  it  opens  out  into  the  main  portion  of  the 
village.  From  the  palms  in  the  distance  a  white- 
clad  figure  slowly  approached  bearing  a  large  Brit- 
ish flag.  The  flag-bearer  halted  a  few  yards 
from  us  and  we  solemnly  saluted  the  flag  of 
Paratane.  The  flag-bearer  then  took  up  a  posi- 
tion with  the  British  flag  waving  above  our  heads. 
In  a  few  minutes  there  was  the  sound  of  female 
voices  singing  a  weird  chant,  and  two  long  parallel 
lines  of  maidens,  waving  flowers,  came  from  among 
the  palm  trees.  They  approached,  performing  a 
sort  of  Morris  dance.  Between  them  was  the  wide 
expanse  of  coral  road.  When  they  had  advanced 
half-way  down  the  avenue  two  more  ladies 
emerged,  taking  up  a  position  immediately  in  the 
rear  of  the  others,  dancing  hand  in  hand.  Finally 
about  twenty  young  men  appeared  and  their  bass 
voices  joined  the  himine.  Two  dancers  had  a  rov- 
ing commission.  They  danced  here  and  there  gro- 
tesquely— beautifully.  One  was  dressed  like  a 
clown.  He  wore  a  weird  mask,  a  long  pair  of 
white  stockings  that  were  drawn  over  his  breeches, 
giving  him  a  Prussian  expression,  while  perched 
jauntily  on  his  head  was  a  chauffeur's  cap.  He 
was  particularly  proud  of  a  bright  pink  silk  scarf 
which  had  been  bound  around  his  body.  He 
danced  about  and  performed  in  a  delightful  man- 


196  TAHITI  DAYS 

ner.  In  spite  of  the  grotesqueness  of  his  appear- 
ance he  supplied  just  the  necessary  amount  of 
abandon  to  the  ensemble,  which  might  have  been 
too  stiff — too  classic  without  him.  The  other  rover 
wore  a  hammer-tailed  coat — the  garment  called  in 
America  a  "  Prince  Albert " — and  a  pair  of  large 
goggles. 

The  dancing  was  truly  beautiful.  The  wriggling 
movement  or  hula-hula  was  entirely  absent — at  this 
time.  The  scene  was  perfect — cocoanut  palms,  blue 
sky  furnished  with  billowy  clouds,  and  the  lagoon 
in  the  background. 

The  dancers  halted  and  solemnly  sang  a  song, 
specially  composed  for  the  occasion.  Like  a  church 
anthem  it  was  repetitionary  in  character.  The 
words  were,  ff  Eorana  Paratane.  Eorana  Para- 
tane'' and  they  meant,  welcome  Briton,  welcome 
Briton.  At  the  end  of  the  song  the  two  ladies, 
who  had  danced  together,  came  from  among  their 
sisters  (I  had  suspected  them  of  some  fell  pur- 
pose) and  approached  me.  They  each  took  an 
arm,  and  I  was  solemnly  led  up  the  stairs  on  to 
the  chief's  veranda.  The  two  young  ladies,  the 
most  beautiful  on  the  island,  sat  on  each  side  of  me, 
while  the  white  trader  interpreted  the  oration  of 
welcome  given  by  the  chief.  I  responded  suitably, 
and  then  I  was  led  to  a  pile  of  pigs,  chickens, 
island  mats  and  cocoanuts.  These  the  chief  of- 
fered me. 

I  thanked  him;  but  while  accepting  the  mats, 


FAGATAU  197 

the  cocoanuts  and  a  brace  of  roosters,  I  suggested 
that  the  pigs  and  remaining  chickens  should  be 
kept  for  a  future  feast.  In  this  I  was  wise. 
Perhaps  I  had  noted  the  air  of  dreary  boredom 
worn  by  the  pigs,  perhaps  it  was  obvious  that  they 
had  gone  through  a  similar  ritual  many  times. 
Nevertheless,  the  chickens  seemed  fearful  of  death, 
and  I  understood  afterwards  that  I  had  done  the 
right  thing. 

Then  we  once  more  formed  into  a  procession 
and  commenced  a  dance  home. 

As  we  passed  along  the  avenue  I  saw  an  old, 
old  woman  looking  through  bleary  eyes  at  the 
procession.  She  was  crouching  beside  the  door 
of  her  fare.  She  looked  terrible,  witch-like. 

But  the  happy  junketing  of  the  reception  was 
not  for  her.  She  was  too  old,  too  hideous;  she 
ought  to  have  been  dead  years  before. 

As  we  passed  her,  I  called  out  a  native  greet- 
ing, while  the  little  boys  roared  with  delight,  think- 
ing I  was  jeering  at  her,  but  she  merely  scowled 
and  crawled  into  her  hovel. 

There's  little  use  for  an  old  woman  in  the  South 
Seas. 

And  so  we  marched  on  to  the  house  of  Tenuaha, 
the  band  playing  savagely,  the  children  yelling 
with  delight,  "  E  or  ana  Paratane  eorana" 

The  reception  over,  I  promptly  changed  into 
shorts  and  a  silk  shirt,  hoping  that  I  had  played 
satisfactorily  my  part  as  a  British  officer  and 


198  TAHITI  DAYS 

representative  of  faratane.  I  determined  to  be 
henceforth  a  boy  of  twelve  let  loose  on  a  coral 
island.  I  intended  to  roam  about  the  reef,  to 
swim,  to  fish,  in  a  word  to  do  all  the  things  that 
I  had  read  of  in  the  books — of  Ballantyne  and 
Kingston. 

I  succeeded  to  a  certain  extent,  and  would  have 
been  entirely  successful  if  the  temptation  of  the 
natives  to  have  receptions  had  been  weaker.  But 
a  stranger,  not  out  for  personal  gain,  but  seldom 
if  ever  visits  Fagatau,  and  the  people  decided  to 
make  the  most  of  their  opportunity.  Tenuaha 
egged  them  on.  It  is  difficult  to  be  happy  in  field 
boots,  Sam  Brown  belt,  and  ordinary  service  cap. 
They  are  highly  uncomfortable  on  a  tropical  island 
not  far  from  the  equator.  And  so  at  regular  in- 
tervals the  receptions  continued.  This  was  the 
program  often  arranged: 

4.30  P.M.  The  papaa  will  sit  inside  the  fare  of 
Tenuaha.  The  people  will  urge  their 
small  boys  and  girls  not  to  approach 
the  house. 

4.45  P.M.  The  band  will  assemble  outside  the  fare 
of  the  chief.  The  chief,  attended  by 
the  catechist  and  two  elders  of  the 
island,  will  march  with  the  band  to  the 
fare  of  Tenuaha.  At  ten  paces  from 
the  door  they  will  halt. 

4.50  P.M.  The  Papaa  Paratane,  attended  by 
Tenuaha,  will  descend  the  veranda 
steps  and,  taking  up  a  position  be- 


FAGATAU  199 

tween  the  chief  and  the  catechist,  he 
will  march  to  the  place.  (It  has  been 
noticed  that  the  men  playing  the  tin' 
cans  are  too  energetic.  They  will 
moderate  their  zeal.) 

5.00  P.M.     The  reception.     The  chief  will  make 

oration  welcoming  the  Paratane,  who 

will  respond.     Gifts  will  be  presented. 

5.15  P.M.     The  Papaa  Paratane  will  return  to  the 

fare  of  Tenuaha. 

Xote. — People  are  urged  to  lend  their  chickens 
and  pigs  for  the  gifts.  The  papaa  in- 
variably refuses  to  take  more  than  two 
chickens.  The  cost  of  these  can  be  borne 
by  Tenuaha.  He  would  have  to  kill  two 
chickens,  anyway. 


But  you  want  to  hear  about  the  reef,  the  lagoon, 
the  swimming  and  the  boating.  Of  course  the 
island  itself  is  merely  a  reef,  but  around  the  edge 
there  is  much  shallow  water  which  ends  in  a  raised 
lip  before  the  island  ends  and  the  deep  sea  begins. 
Clad  in  a  pareu  and  a  soft  shirt,  for  the  heat  is 
intense,  I  wandered  for  hours  inspecting  the  deep 
pools  and  endeavouring  to  entice  a  fish  to  take 
my  hook.  But  the  intelligence  and  self-protective 
qualities  of  the  fish  of  Fagatau  is  surprising.  I 
used  to  break  open  large  shell-fish,  the  pahua, 
and  after  spreading  these  about  the  bottom  of  a 
pool,  numbers  of  gaily  dressed  fish,  weighing  about 
three  or  four  pounds,  would  approach  and  thank- 
fully clean  the  shell  of  all  meat,  but  the  moment  a 


200  TAHITI  DAYS 

thin  line  with  a  seductive  piece  of  the  same  bait 
was  dangled,  their  interest  waned.  The  larger  fish 
have  retired  to  consult;  they've  returned  to  investi- 
gate; they  have  circled  around  and  even  smelt  it, 
but  as  for  eating  it — oh,  dear  no!  Small  fish 
have  devoured  the  bait,  bit  by  bit,  and  when  the 
naked  hook  would  be  drawn  up  to  the  surface  they 
have  followed  it,  asking  for  more. 

The  only  chance  lay  in  a  newcomer  making  an 
unthinking  dash  from  the  lagoon  outside  to  his 
destruction.  Nevertheless  the  time  was  not  wasted, 
for  the  pond  would  soon  be  filled  with  all  manner 
of  submarine  life.  Sometimes  an  octopus  entered 
the  pool,  when  the  other  fish  promptly  retired 
with  watching  briefs,  and  an  exceedingly  cun- 
ning look  in  their  eyes.  An  octopus  can  be  easily 
caught  if  he  is  not  too  large.  Of  course  one  has 
to  be  very  still  and  silent  if  he  is  to  be  taken.  At 
first  I  feared  him  greatly,  until  long  familiarity 
with  his  habits  removed  any  dread  of  his  long  ten- 
tacles. The  moment  he  is  disturbed  he  will  rush 
into  one  of  the  many  miniature  caverns  in  the 
coral,  where,  if  left  alone,  he  will  remain  for  a 
long  time.  And  if  the  joy  of  hunting  comes  upon 
you  with  too  great  strength,  so  that  you  jab  him 
fiercely  with  a  spear  or  stick,  he  may  die  inside 
the  hole,  but  your  cook  will  not  have  the  pleasure 
of  making  you  some  excellent  soup  that  evening. 
No,  you  must  perform  the  operation  delicately. 
Quite  quietly,  you  push  the  stick  into  the  hole  until 


FAGATAU  201 

you  feel  his  jelly-like  body.  You  keep  up  a  con- 
tinuous succession  of  gentle  jabs.  This  annoys 
him,  so  he  emits  a  smoke  screen  to  deceive  you; 
it  makes  the  water  around  dark  and  brown.  But 
undismayed,  and  not  deceived,  you  go  on.  Finally 
one  tentacle  comes  out,  and  your  heart  is  pos- 
sessed with  hope.  A  few  more  jabs — very  gentle 
ones  now — and  several  more  appear.  Finally  his 
horrid-looking  body  emerges  and  you — yes,  you — 
grab  his  main  body,  and,  with  the  muscles  of  your 
fingers  exerting  their  maximum  amount  of 
strength,  you  commence  to  squeeze  the  life  out 
of  him.  His  tentacles  rush  up  your  arm  making 
clicking  sounds,  but  gradually  their  strength  gives 
out  and  you  can  pull  them  off  quite  easily.  It 
might  perhaps  be  better  not  to  attempt  this  in  deep 
water,  or  with  a  large  octopus,  but  you  will  be  safe 
with  an  octopus  of  three  feet  over  all.  His  ten- 
tacles, when  nicely  cooked  and  chopped  into  rings, 
are  not  unsavory.  They  are  served  in  clear  soup 
and  appear  snowy  white,  floating  about.  It  has 
been  whispered  by  traders  that  a  continuous  diet 
of  octopus  is  likely  to  give  a  man  either  leprosy  or 
elephantiasis,  but  perhaps  this  is  an  old  wives' 
tale,  especially  in  regard  to  the  former. 

Octopi  have  for  many  years  been  useful  to 
novelists  weaving  stories  around  the  tropics,  and  in 
the  northern  part  of  New  Zealand,  where  he 
abounds,  he  is  regarded  with  great  respect  by 
boys  bathing  off  the  rocks  where  the  seaweed  is 


202  TAHITI  DAYS 

dense,  or  off  little-used  piers,  since  he  is  alleged 
to  hide  behind  the  piles,  a  few  tentacles  gripping 
the  struts,  while  the  others  wave  about  in  the  water 
ready  for  any  young  white  legs  that  may  come  too 
near.  The  fish  at  Fagatau  are  precisely  like  those 
found  everywhere  in  the  group,  just  as  beautiful, 
just  as  interesting  to  watch. 

Clinging  to  the  rocks  are  many  sea-urchins.  The 
species  armed  with  porcupine-like  quills  are  un- 
pleasant, since  their  lance-like  quills  are  extremely 
sharp  and  if  one  so  much  as  touches  you  the  quill 
enters  the  flesh  and  breaks.  The  pain  is  intense, 
rather  worse  than  a  nettle  sting,  and  ammonia 
alone  will  relieve  it.  However,  the  irritation  does 
not  last  more  than  an  hour.  There  is  another  and 
less  common  species  that  has  thick  violet-coloured 
quills,  as  thick  as  an  ordinary  pencil.  They  are 
beautiful,  and  I  have  seen  a  Frenchman  break 
them  open  and  eat  with  much  enjoyment  the 
cream-coloured  flesh.  The  quills  are  brittle,  and 
may  be  used  as  slate  pencils. 

The  edge  of  the  reef  was  always  fascinating. 
In  many  places  one  merely  walks  on  the  roof  of 
huge  subterranean  caverns  into  which  the  water 
rushes  with  many  weird  noises,  while  occasionally 
a  small  hole  will  emit  a  great  geyser  of  snowy 
foam  and  water.  I  walked  about,  peering  into 
this  hole,  looking  into  that  great  crack  in  the  coral, 
always  happy  and  never  feeling  more  than  fifteen. 


FAGATAU  203 

Sometimes,  half  a  mile  out  at  sea,  could  be  seen 
canoes  appearing  and  disappearing  as  the  large 
rollers  passed  them  by.  They  were  natives  on  the 
eternal  lookout  for  turtle.  During  my  stay  on 
Fagatau  the  turtle  were  plentiful  and  the  people 
were  very  contented.  For  although  food  is  now 
abundant  in  the  Paumotus,  the  old  times  when  life 
was  divided  between  the  days  when  turtle  were 
plentiful  and  when  they  failed  to  appear,  are  still 
remembered  with  some  horror.  The  turtle  was 
regarded  as  a  gift  from  the  gods,  and  its  non- 
appearance  was  looked  upon  as  proof  of  divine 
displeasure.  Hence  around  the  preparation  of  the 
food,  and  even  its  eating,  there  was  much  religious 
ceremony;  and  one  shudders  to  think  what  kind  of 
sacrifices  were  offered  when  turtle  failed  to  pass 
the  island.  The  flesh  was  always  eaten  on  the 
marai — the  temple — and  each  man  stood  in  front  of 
a  block  of  coral.  The  priests  apparently  served 
each  man. 

The  turtle  is  easily  captured.  He  does  not 
swim  quickly,  and  he  must  return  to  the  surface 
to  breathe,  even  in  the  face  of  danger.  In  many 
cases  the  natives  dive  for  him,  and  looping  a  rope 
around  his  flappers,  they  tow  him  home.  Some- 
times, indeed,  the  hunter  is  caught  himself  by  a 
shark — an  ever-present  danger.  The  turtle  are 
generally  stored  in  the  shallow  lagoon  streams 
where  they  live  anchored  or  attached  to  canoes.  I 
have  often  seen  one  or  two  lying  on  the  sand  in  a 


204  TAHITI  DAYS 

pitiable  condition.  At  intervals  they  give  deep, 
heart-rending  sighs  which  go  straight  to  one's  heart, 
poor  fellows.  They  are  merely  breathing,  of  course, 
but  they  choose  to  breathe  as  you  would  breathe  if 
you  had  just  heard  that  your  entire  fortune  had 
been  embezzled  by  a  dishonest  banker.  There  is  a 
suggestion  of  "  Alice  in  Wonderland"  here,  but 
Alice  seemed  more  than  a  reality  when  I  found 
myself  with  a  number  of  small  boys  taking  rides 
on  the  back  of  a  turtle  in  the  lagoon.  The  turtle 
was  a  captive,  of  course;  and  his  chances  of  escape 
were  nil,  but  always  he  headed  for  the  reef  and 
the  open  sea.  One  held  him  with  both  hands  by 
his  shell,  and  then  flinging  oneself  across  his  back, 
and  taking  a  very  deep  breath,  down  to  the  bottom 
of  the  lagoon  one  would  go,  praying  that  it  would 
be  possible  to  last  out  as  long  as  the  turtle.  After 
an  eternity,  it  seemed,  we  would  both  return  to  the 
surface,  the  turtle  would  give  another  sob-like 
sigh,  and  down  we  would  go  again.  Personally,  I 
never  could  last  out  quite  as  long  as  the  turtle,  but 
the  boys  could,  easily.  Nevertheless  it  was  not 
difficult  to  catch  him  again,  for  he  had  a  long  rope 
attached  to  one  of  his  flappers.  The  performance 
was  like  dancing  at  a  funeral,  more  interesting 
than  amusing. 

Most  people  have  eaten  sea  turtle,  and  every  one 
knows  that  the  flesh  is  even  more  delicious  than 
the  best  beef  steak.  I  don't  know  exactly  how  the 
natives  cook  the  turtle;  frankly  I  never  inquired, 


Copyright,  Kroepelein 


TEAEA  A   MIHIMANA   BRINGING  IN  FEII 

In  spite  of  the  length  of  his  name,  Teaea  a  Mihlmana,  is  a  proper 
man.  He  drove  thirty  miles  to  meet  us,  and  when  at  the  end  of  two 
days  of  fatiguing  work,  desiring  to  reward  him,  and  having  no  ade- 
quate present  to  make  him  we  suggested  giving  him  money,  he  was 
filled  with  consternation.  He  is  the  right-hand  man  of  the  chief 
of  Papenoo. 


Copyright,  Kroepelein 
PREPARING   BAMBOO  FOR   HAT   MAKING 

The  tough  outer  skin  of  the  bamboo  is  removed  by  the  women.  Beneath  this  skin, 
a  silky  ribbon-like  material  is  found  easily  removable  in  long  strips.  A  hat  made  of 
bamboo  material  is  light,  and  can  be  fashioned  into  any  shape.  A  white  man  is  In- 
variably presented  with  many  during  a  visit  to  Tahiti.  The  vahine  lines  it  with  pale 
blue  or  pink  silk,  and  she  is  often  pleased  to  work  a  spray  of  flowers  on  the  silk, 
expressing  her  feelings  of  regard.  Unless  treated  very  carefully,  the  bamboo  hat 
quickly  looses  its  shape,  and  a  shower  of  rain  spoils  it. 


ON   THE  BOAD  TO  PAPENOO 

Captain  Cook  landed  near  this  spot,  finding  the  country  inhabited  by  a  large  population 
of  happy,  light-hearted  people.  Today,  a  complete  muster  of  all  living  In  the  area 
within  the  picture  would  hardly  number  more  than  forty. 


THE   BEACH 

Where   the   shelving   reef   creeps   up   on   to   the   main    Island    and    the 
shores   are   washed   by   the   rollers  of  the  Pacific. 


Copyright,  Kroepelein 


A  MAN  FROM  TIAREI 


FAGATAU  205 

but  I  am  convinced  that  they  still  go  through  some 
kind  of  ceremony  during  the  cooking. 

The  turtle  seem  to  drift  with  the  warm  cur- 
rents, living  on  seaweed  and  merely  going  ashore 
to  lay  their  eggs.  Turtle  eggs  as  food  are  not 
unlike  ordinary  chicken  eggs;  they  look  very 
tempting  sitting  around  the  beef  steak  when  it 
comes  to  table. 

The  turtle  are  common  property  on  the  island, 
and  a  fair  share  is  handed  round  to  each  and  all. 
When  I  left  the  Paumotus  I  was  given  a  large 
turtle  and  it  was  carried  to  Papeete  on  the 
schooner.  It  sighed  during  the  whole  voyage,  but 
showed  no  other  signs  of  excitement. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  MARAI  AND  MIGGIMIGGI 

WHO  doesn't  believe  in  spirits? 

Tenuaha  had  taken  me  for  a  day's  outing  in  the 
launch  across  the  lagoon  and  we  had  landed  at 
the  further  and  deserted  end  of  the  island.  Here 
was  the  ancient  temple  of  the  island — the  Marai. 
It  consists  merely  of  a  great  heap  of  dark  col- 
oured coral  upon  which  nothing  grows  except 
low-lying  scrub.  The  summit  was  fairly  level  and 
at  regular  intervals  were  small  coral  slabs,  placed 
in  the  ground,  and  tottering  like  tombstones  in  a 
deserted  cemetery.  The  whole  place  was  dreary- 
fearful — and  my  mind  went  back  but  a  few  years 
to  the  time  when  many  a  poor  wretch  had  breathed 
his  last  on  this  huge  ungainly  altar.  I  imagined 
the  natives  standing  before  their  little  slabs  of 
stone,  looking  with  hungry  eyes  at  the  priest  dol- 
ing out  the  turtle  flesh  or  perhaps  the  flesh,  of 
human  beings.  The  place  seemed  haunted  with 
the  spirits  of  the  past;  I  wanted  to  run  away; 
one  native  had  refused  to  join  us,  but  waited  at 
the  base  of  the  temple,  showing  signs  of  nervous- 
ness; it  was  terrible,  haunting,  weird.  One  could 
hardly  believe  that  this  was  part  of  the  cheerful 

206 


THE  MARAI  AND  MIGGIMIGGI     207 

palm-clad  island.  Below  us  the  waves  were  roll- 
ing in  with  terrific  force. 

"  Come,"  said  Tenuaha,  "  I  will  show  you  some- 
thing." He  led  me  a  little  way  down  the  side  of 
the  Marai,  and  removed  a  slab  of  coral  exposing 
a  small  chamber  neatly  lined  with  smooth  coral. 
"  One  very  bad  man  come  here,"  he  explained, 
"  he  took  his  woman,  and  he  killed  her,  and  stayed 
some  days  eating  her." 

We  climbed  once  more  onto  the  Marai.  The 
heat  was  suffocating,  and  the  coral  burnt  through 
my  shoes.  I  looked  out  towards  the  horizon,  and 
to  my  astonishment  I  saw  great  angry  clouds  ris- 
ing up  with  some  haste.  In  a  remarkably  short 
space  of  time  the  sky  became  overcast  and  a  ter- 
rific thunderstorm  was  upon  us.  We  ran  for 
shelter,  and  as  we  ran  the  old  hag  in  the  village 
four  miles  away  called  to  the  chief  who  was  pass- 
ing, "  The  papaa  Par  at  one  is  on  the  Marai;  the 
gods  are  angry;  there  will  be  a  big  storm."  She 
retired  to  her  filthy  fare  muttering  prayers,  but 
not  to  the  God  of  the  Christians. 

During  the  storm  we  sheltered  at  the  foot  of  the 
Marai;  the  natives  were  frightened,  but  Tenuaha 
merely  laughed. 

However,  every  storm  has  an  end,  and  we  were 
soon  out  on  the  lagoon  shooting  birds  for  supper. 

Now  it  happened  that  a  certain  mother  bird 
remained  too  long  on  her  nest  and  she  was 
shot,  leaving  behind  her  a  young  bird  almost 


208  TAHITI  DAYS 

ready  to  use  its  own  wings.  We  landed  on  the 
pahua  mound  and  the  young  bird  was  highly 
incensed.  However,  very  gently,  I  picked  her  up 
and  introduced  myself,  to  a  very  dear  little  bird 
friend  who  for  some  months  became  my  constant 
and  loving  companion.  She  hated  me  at  first,  but 
when  she  found  that  I  was  the  source  of  many 
little  fish,  and  her  very  affectionate  father,  she 
grew  to  love  me  dearly.  Since  the  days  of  this 
young  lady's  babyhood  I  have  sympathized  with 
mother  birds.  There  is  no  rest.  You  have  simply 
got  to  catch  fish  all  day  and  even  keep  some  ready 
in  a  pool  for  the  morning.  I  have  given  this  baby 
of  mine  twenty-five  little  fish  and  she  has  sunk 
into  slumber  and  awakened  in  ten  minutes,  if  dis- 
turbed, demanding  more. 

I  called  her  Miggimiggi — a  horrid  name,  but  if 
the  bird  had  not  received  this  name  I  would  have 
been  branded  with  it.  For,  in  the  South  Seas,  one 
is  often  given  a  native  name.  A  stout  old  valdne, 
having  taken  a  fancy  to  a  young  white  man,  will 
say  lazily,  "  You  my  tamare — I  your  modder." 
She  will  then  give  him  a  name  quite  carelessly, 
and  will  possibly  forget  the  incident,  but  the 
white  man,  new  to  the  South  Seas,  is  pleased.  He 
naturally  asks  the  meaning  of  the  word  and  is 
often  horrified  to  find  how  appropriate  the 
name  is. 

I  was  given  the  name  of  Miggimiggi;  which 
name  I  disliked  at  once.  There  is  something  com- 


monplace,  childish,  absurd  about  the  name  that 
displeases  me.  I  asked  for  the  meaning  and  was 
told  that  Miggimiggi  was  the  hard  and  tough 
wood  taken  from  a  small  tree  that  grows  near  the 
edge  of  the  island.  This  tree  tries  to  grow  up- 
right but  fails,  with  the  result  that  it  twists  and 
turns  and  is  very  useful  for  making  hooks  for 
turtles.  The  idea  was  to  pay  a  compliment  to  the 
toughness  and  strength  of  the  British  race. 

But  the  explanation  displeased  me  more  than 
the  sound  of  the  word,  which  was  bad  enough. 
How  could  one  sign  oneself  as  Miggimiggi  Jones, 
or  would  it  sound  nice  to  hear  a  butler  announce 
one  to  an  astonished  drawing-room  full  of  men 
and  women  as  "Mr.  Miggimiggi  Smith"?  Still 
Miggimiggi  seemed  an  excellent  name  for  a  fat 
little  dog  or  a  charming  kitten. 

Then  I  decided  to  call  my  bird  Miggimiggi. 
Miggimiggi  she  was  called,  and  it  is  hoped  that 
she  is  still  so  called,  for  I  left  her  a  little  more 
than  a  year  ago,  in  charge  of  a  young  native  boy, 
who  when  very  sick  with  the  influenza,  could  not 
rest  unless  he  was  assured  that  some  one  had  been 
catching  fish  for  Miggimiggi. 

I  took  her  back  to  Tahiti  with  me  and  I  would 
have  carried  her  to  England,  only  I  loved  her  too 
well.  I  know  she  missed  me  sadly.  I  feel  that 
for  a  long  time  she  waited  in  the  trees  at  night- 
time, ready  to  flop  down  from  her  tree  and  nestle 
close  up  beside  my  chin  making  cooing  sounds 


210  TAHITI  DAYS 

and  sometimes  demanding  food,  even  when  she 
was  old  enough  to  catch  her  own  fish.  She  ac- 
companied me  always,  out  on  the  reef,  in  the 
canoe,  everywhere.  If  I  came  home  during  the 
day  and  found  her  absent  I  merely  called  out 
towards  the  usual  number  of  the  birds  flying  about, 
"  Miggimiggi,"  and  she'd  leave  them  and  return. 
At  one  time  I  was  given  a  small  white  bird  which 
I  fondled  a  little,  and  then  left  in  a  box  attached  to 
a  tree.  I  had  no  sooner  left  it,  than  Miggimiggi 
flew  down  from  her  tree  and  promptly  killed  it, 
and  after  the  murder  she  had  the  impudence  to  sit 
on  my  shoulder.  She  was  a  little  larger  than  a 
good-sized  thrush,  but  judging  by  the  number  of 
fish  she  could  consume  at  a  sitting,  she  ought  to 
have  been  as  large  as  an  ostrich.  It  is  to  be  hoped 
that  she's  alive  now,  but  I  dare  say  she  found  a  mate 
and  has  forgotten  her  father  in  the  joys  and  hor- 
rors of  matrimony.  But  I  sincerely  hope  that, 
when  she  is  driven  out  of  her  wits  with  her  own 
babies,  she  will  give  me  a  solemn  thought  of 
sympathy. 


CHAPTER  XX 

WAITING  FOR  THE  NOEL 

LIFE  continued  on  Fagatau  until  the  time  came 
when  the  Noel  should  arrive  from  Hikuero,  from 
whence  many  schooners  would  be  sailing  for 
Papeete.  At  this  time  it  was  decided  to  give  a 
particularly  heavy  feast;  and  I  gladly  contributed 
two  sacks  of  flour  to  the  entertainment. 

Preparations  went  on  apace,  and  soon  in  the 
centre  of  the  place  a  rotunda  of  green  cocoanut 
leaves  was  erected.  Many  pigs,  turtles  and 
chickens  were  killed,  and  the  people,  dressed  mag- 
nificently, gathered  round  to  eat  heartily. 

Inside  the  rotunda  tables  were  arranged,  col- 
lege dining-hall  fashion.  The  chief  and  the  elders 
sat  at  the  high  table  looking  with  some  anxiety 
at  the  array  of  silver  knives  and  forks  which 
Tenuaha  the  magnificent  had  placed  in  front  of 
them.  During  the  meal  which  followed,  the  or- 
dinary folk  at  the  lower  tables,  or  on  the  ground, 
gorged  vast  quantities  of  pork,  chicken  and  turtle 
with  satisfaction,  but  the  poor  dignitaries  could 
hardly  eat  a  bite  with  any  comfort.  They  watched 
one  another  carefully,  but  got  no  assistance.  The 

chief  felt  simply  hopeless.     The  situation  could 

211 


212  TAHITI  DAYS 

have  been  saved  by  a  display  of  true  courtesy,  to 
compensate  for  Tenuaha's  love  of  the  magnificent 
in  creating  such  a  situation,  but  it  was  not.  How- 
ever, by  turning  well  around,  and  talking  to  the 
man  on  my  right,  the  chief  had  a  few  opportuni- 
ties of  grabbing  a  leg  of  a  chicken  and  taking  a 
few  happy  bites.  But  Tenuaha  and  his  servant, 
the  latter  waiting  in  the  most  perfect  fashion,  were 
disrespectfully  amused  and  enjoyed  watching  the 
difficulties  of  their  elders  and  betters. 

The  meal  was  extremely  intricate,  and  course 
after  course  arrived,  perfectly  cooked  a  la  Fran- 
paise.  Hence  the  chief  had  to  tackle  a  dainty 
hors  d'oeuvre  consisting  of  turtle  eggs  and  as- 
paragus, he  had  to  drink  octopus  consomme;  he 
struggled  with  some  small  portions  of  lobster 
mayonnaise;  he  became  hopeless  with  portions  of 
the  chicken;  and  his  courage  had  completely  dis- 
appeared when  the  turtle  beef  steak  appeared  in 
dainty  portions.  But  the  waiter,  with  a  faint  sug- 
gestion of  amusement,  removed  the  plates,  sup- 
plied him  with  fresh  knives  and  forks,  until  it  is 
certain  that  he  would  have  been  used  as  a  human 
sacrifice,  if  the  chief  could  have  got  at  him. 

And  in  spite  of  all  the  suffering  endured  by  the 
chief  and  elders  they  were  very  proud  of  Tenuaha, 
and  glad  to  shake  his  hand  when  he  condescended 
to  be  nice  to  them. 

The  farewell  feast  was  considered  by  all  to  be 
a  great  success  and,  although  meant  as  a  fitting 


WAITING  FOR  THE  NOEL        213 

good-bye,  several  weeks  passed  before  a  schooner 
arrived.  It  turned  out  afterwards  that  the  Noel 
had  left  Hikuero  to  come  to  Fagatau,  but  after 
six  hours'  unequal  battle  with  a  stiff  trade  wind 
she  became  so  full  of  water  that  she  was  compelled 
to  return  to  Hikuero.  But  we  were  ignorant  of 
this  on  Fagatau,  and  as  the  weeks  passed  I  be- 
came very  anxious. 

One  day,  alone,  I  wandered  to  the  windward 
side  of  the  island  to  watch  the  horizon  for  signs 
of  a  sail.  Except  at  night  time,  when  we  some- 
times wandered  out  on  to  the  great  mounds  of 
coral,  I  had  seldom  visited  this  side  of  the  island. 

The  heat  was  intense,  so  intent  upon  reaching 
a  long  peninsula  in  the  distance,  I  wandered  along 
a  path  that  fringed  the  edge  of  the  scrub.  The 
path  seemed  well  trodden,  and  I  wondered  exactly 
where  it  led  to.  I  had  been  walking  for  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  when  I  came  to  a  small  clearing 
in  which  were  three  native  huts — a  miniature  vil- 
lage— and  judging  by  the  domestic  utensils  lying 
about  it  was  obvious  that  the  houses  were  occu- 
pied. This  was  astonishing,  for  it  seemed  strange 
that  people  should  live  so  near  to  the  village,  and 
yet  not  actually  in  it.  For  the  Polynesian  must 
have  mortal  company,  because  of  his  firm  belief  in 
the  existence  of  a  vast  company  of  malignant  im- 
mortals who  stalk  about  when  the  sun  has  left  his 
island.  Small  companies,  not  without  many  fears, 
venture  afield  during  the  copra  making  season,  but 


214  TAHITI  DAYS 

they  return  to  the  main  village  the  moment  their 
work  is  finished.  I  knew  that  no  Paumotun  would 
willingly  spend  a  night  three-quarters  of  a  mile 
from  his  village. 

Beside  one  of  the  houses  was  a  grave,  so  badly 
filled  in  that  the  mound  had  sunk  almost  to  the 
level  of  the  ground,  forming  a  miniature  valley 
round  the  edges. 

This  isolated  grave  lent  additional  mystery,  for 
the  dead  of  Fagatau  sleep  in  company,  protected 
by  a  huge  ungainly  crucifix. 

Convinced  that  I  was  being  stared  at  through 
the  bamboo  poles  forming  the  sides  of  the  fares,  I 
walked  on,  wondering  greatly.  At  one  hundred 
paces  from  the  fares  I  looked  back,  and  from  each 
of  the  huts  I  saw  a  head  disappear,  while  a  small 
boy  scuttled  out  of  sight. 

Having  searched  in  vain  for  the  schooner,  I 
returned  through  the  small  village  again,  and  once 
more  experienced  that  air  of  mystery  which  had 
been  so  persistent  before. 

Upon  returning  home  I  sought  the  Alsatian 
trader  and  asked  him  for  an  explanation  of  the 
houses  in  the  clearing. 

"You  see  the  grave?"  he  said.  "She  was  a 
young  girl,  eh — pretty,  prettiest  on  the  island — 
came  from  the  Gambia  where  they  are  very  hand- 
some— half  Spanish.  She  married  a  man,  but  all 
the  natives  sought  her.  Her  man  was  old,  so  she 
had  two  men  who  lived  with  her  when  her  husband 


WAITING  FOR  THE  NOEL        215 

was  not  looking.  Her  man,  he  went  to  Papeete, 
and  while  he  was  away  the  two  men  lived  with 
her  unashamed.  They  did  not  tell  the  priest. 
Soon  it  was  said  her  man  was  sick  on  Tahiti,  and 
had  been  placed  in  the  leper  station  at  Pappino. 
So  her  two  lovers  were  afraid.  She  got  sick,  too, 
and  died  very  quickly.  No  one  would  bury  her, 
and  the  chief  with  much  paraffin  placed  her  in 
the  grave.  It  is  not  long  ago,  and  now  her  two 
lovers  live  in  the  house  near  her  grave.  They,  too, 
have  leprosy,  and  there  is  a  small  boy  with  them. 
He  is  sick,  too.  His  father  ran  away.  Soon  they 
will  die,  but  the  natives  take  them  food.  The 
priest  takes  them  the  communion  when  he  comes." 

I  asked  Tenuaha  about  the  little  settlement  and 
he  said,  "It  is  a  bad  place;  don't  you  go  there." 

There  are  many  stories  told  about  lepers,  but 
the  saddest,  nay,  the  loveliest,  is  the  story  of  Hin- 
ano.  But  to  tell  the  story  we  must  go  back  some 
years  to  the  days  when  Fagatau  had  not  been  well 
planted  with  nuts,  and  when  the  remoteness  of  the 
island  made  the  copra  trade  of  little  value. 

Before  the  coming  of  the  white  man  and  his 
religion,  like  the  custom  prevailing  in  Tahiti, 
many  babies  were  not  permitted  to  live  more  than 
a  second.  Obeying  a  practical  instinct  of  self- 
preservation,  the  parents  killed  them.  Had  all  the 
children  born  on  the  island  been  suffered  to  live, 
the  result  would  have  been  unthinkable.  There 
were  cocoanuts,  of  course,  and  the  taro  was  culti- 


216  TAHITI  DAYS 

vated  to  a  certain  extent,  but  the  fact  remained 
that  the  island  could  support  so  many  and  no 
more.  As  it  was,  the  seasons  when  the  turtle 
failed  to  appear  marked  a  period  of  great  suf- 
fering. 

However,  Christianity  taught  the  natives  that 
it  was  wrong  to  murder  infants,  and  realizing  this, 
and  also  understanding  that  their  isolation  from 
the  rest  of  the  world  had  partially  ceased,  the 
practice  was  given  up,  with  the  result  that 
Fagatau  became  over-populated.  This  would  have 
been  serious  had  not  the  Bishop  of  Tahiti  ar- 
ranged for  the  emigration  to  Moorea  of  a  large 
number  of  the  people.  The  emigrants,  finding 
the  climate  of  Moorea  delightful,  and  food  easy  to 
obtain,  commenced  to  deteriorate,  and  some  be- 
came an  easy  prey  to  European  diseases.  The 
Chinese  had  brought  a  certain  amount  of  leprosy 
to  Tahiti  and  this  was  easily  communicated  to  the 
natives  of  Moorea. 

Later,  when  the  islands  of  the  Paumotus  com- 
menced to  export  copra  in  large  quantities,  the 
emigrants  to  Moorea  felt  that  they  had  got  the 
worst  of  the  bargain  and  many  returned  to 
Fagatau,  claiming  their  share  of  the  profits.  The 
food  difficulty  had  been  eliminated  by  the  presence 
of  stores,  both  Chinese  and  European. 

Amongst  those  who  returned  to  Fagatau  was  a 
man  called  Tati.  He  had  inherited  land  on 
Moorea,  so  that  his  return  was  looked  upon  with 


WAITING  FOR  THE  NOEL        217 

some  surprise  by  the  natives,  who  nevertheless 
gave  him  a  great  welcome.  He  brought  with  him 
his  wife  Tina,  and  his  daughter  by  adoption 
named  Hinano.  Hinano  came  from  Mangarewa 
and  was  half  Chilean.  She  was  a  small  person 
with  a  great  mass  of  brown  hair  which  shone  like 
gold  in  the  lamplight  when  she  sat  with  the  others 
at  the  evening  himine.  But  if  her  hair  were 
lovely  and  attractive,  it  was  perhaps  her  eyes  that 
arrested  one's  attention  more.  They  were  very 
large,  and  strangely  enough  there  was  a  sugges- 
tion of  blue  lurking  in  their  depths.  In  fact,  her 
whole  appearance  was  so  attractive  that  the  local 
white  trader  decided  to  dismiss  his  wife  at  once 
in  favour  of  Hinano. 

Now,  although  the  trader's  wife  had  grown  fat, 
this  did  riot  prevent  her  being  annoyed  at  the  sug- 
gestion. She  had  long  enjoyed  the  privilege  of 
being  the  papaas  wife  and  she  had  no  intention 
of  abdicating  without  a  struggle.  '  There's  no 
need  to  marry  her,"  she  urged;  "give  Tina  a  roll 
of  calico  and  she  will  be  blind  when  you  take 
Hinano  after  the  himine.  I  also  will  be  blind,  for 
you  are  right,  I  have  indeed  grown  stout." 

But  this  suggestion  was  not  acceptable.  Years 
before,  the  trader  had  not  been  blind  when  his 
wife,  in  her  thinner  days,  had  strolled  amongst 
the  cocoanut  trees  with  younger  men  than  himself. 
In  fact,  he  saw  that  as  an  occasional  gallant  he 
would  be  a  miserable  failure;  there  was  more  at- 


218  TAHITI  DAYS 

traction  in  the  idea  of  being  a  regular  kindly  hus- 
band, and  Hinano  would  inherit  much  land.  The 
trader  saw  a  life  of  relief  from  Chinese  competi- 
tion and  a  happy  old  age  accompanied  by  a  rum 
jar. 

Hence  he  approached  Tina,  who  received  the 
idea  and  a  sack  of  flour  graciously.  "  But,  yes, 
we  are  of  a  truth  greatly  honoured,"  she  said.  "  I 
will  see  Tati  at  once."  Tati  thought  that  he 
ought  to  have  felt  more  honoured  than  he  actually 
did  feel;  but  he  said  he  would  think  it  over  and 
discuss  the  matter  with  Hinano. 

The  trader's  wife  had  been  lurking  in  the  woods 
near  the  house  during  this  dialogue  with  Tina,  and 
when  she  saw  the  flour  accepted  by  Tati's  wife, 
she  gave  herself  up  as  lost,  and  ran  into  the  woods 
weeping.  Now  the  house  of  Tati  was  situated 
some  little  distance  from  the  native  village,  for 
Tati  had  developed  modern  notions,  and  it  was 
alleged  that  he  feared  not  ghosts  at  night  time. 
The  trader's  wife,  who  in  her  grief  had  forgotten 
time,  found  herself  near  the  house  after  the  sun 
had  set.  Filled  with  deadly  forebodings  of  spirits, 
and  fearing  the  return  journey  to  the  village,  she 
approached  Tati's  house  upon  the  veranda  of 
which  a  light  was  burning.  On  the  veranda  sat 
Tati,  Tina  and  Hinano.  Tati  had  rolled  up  the 
sleeve  of  his  shirt  exposing  his  great  beautiful 
arm.  Just  as  the  trader's  wife  came  near,  he  had 
beckoned  Tina  to  approach,  and  together  they 


WAITING  FOR  THE  NOEL        219 

examined  what  appeared  to  be  a  large  white  sore 
on  the  forearm.  "  I  fear  it  is  the  white  sickness," 
Tati  remarked.  "  It  is  good  that  we  have  left 
Moorea  where  I  should  have  been  sent  to  the 
place  of  the  two  white  churches  where  the  people 
fear  to  show  themselves." 

The  trader's  wife  waited  to  hear  no  more,  but 
defying  the  ghosts,  she  rushed  home  to  her  man 
and  told  what  seemed  to  her  good  news. 

The  trader  decided  to  walk  warily,  and  feeling 
that  Hinano  should  run  no  further  risk  of  infec- 
tion, he  told  the  priest,  and  soon  Tati's  object  in 
returning  to  Fagatau  was  exposed.  He  was  a  man 
of  wealth,  and  could  not  be  treated  summarily, 
but  Hinano  and  Tina  were  compelled  to  leave  him 
and  to  live  in  a  small  house  near  the 
village.  It  was  unnecessary  to  order  the  natives 
to  keep  away  from  poor  Tati;  his  segregation  was 
complete.  Tina  was  not  sorry  since  she  had  dis- 
liked living  so  far  out  of  town,  but  the  white 
blood  in  the  veins  of  Hinano  made  her  cling  to 
her  adopted  father,  whom  she  loved  dearly. 

Therefore,  at  night  time,  armed  with  a  basket 
of  provisions,  she  would  risk  the  spirits  and  the 
orders  of  the  chief,  and  often  spent  nearly  the 
whole  night  with  Tati.  In  fact,  she  was  with  him 
when  he  died.  No  one  thought  it  strange  that 
Hinano  had  found  him  dead. 

It  was  some  time  after  the  death  of  Tati  that 
the  trader's  interest  revived  in  Hinano.  He  had 


220  TAHITI  DAYS 

watched  her  very  closely  until  he  at  last  decided 
that  her  chances  of  catching  the  disease  were 
remote. 

He  therefore  again  approached  Tina  with  his 
original  proposal  that  he  should  marry  Hinano 
in  the  church  properly  and  in  a  fitting  manner. 

Tina,  greatly  flattered,  agreed  to  arrange  the 
matter  and  promptly  approached  Hinano.  "  It 
is  good  that  the  papaa  should  marry  you;  he  is  a 
nice  man,  and  his  present  woman  has  grown  huge 
and  ungainly.  She  has  been  very  proud,  and  it 
was  her  fault  that  the  sickness  of  Tati  was  dis- 
covered. Therefore,  you  must  marry  the  trader." 

But  Hinano,  while  acknowledging  the  honour, 
remarked  that  she  would  much  rather  go  to 
Papeete  and  perhaps  marry  the  purser  of  the  mail 
steamer.  For  the  trader  was  old,  and  she  feared 
life  might  be  very  dull. 

Tina  pointed  out  that  the  honour  of  marrying 
the  white  man  was  so  great  that  it  far  outweighed 
the  disadvantage  of  his  age.  "  In  any  case,"  she 
continued,  "  he  will  be  drunk  always,  and  there 
are  many  young  men  on  the  island." 

At  this  time,  and  during  these  negotiations,  the 
wife  of  the  trader  was  once  more  in  a  state  of 
extreme  anxiety  amounting  to  sheer  panic.  But 
she  took  to  sharing  the  rum  jar  with  the  trader. 
Which  helped  her  to  forget. 

And  there  is  little  doubt  but  what  Hinano 
would  have  gone  the  way  of  all  young  native 


A  TAHITLAN  FAMILY  PREPARING  TO  EAT  BREADFRUIT 

The  old  lady  to  the  right,  and  the  grandmother  of  the  children,  of  colour  various,  came 
to  my  hospital  with  a  small  boy,  woefully  ill.  She  liked  the  hospital  so  well  that  she 
endeavoured  to  become  a  patient,  but  failed  completely  and  decided  to  scrub  floors  in- 
stead. Hanging  from  the  roof  of  the  verandah  are  feis,  the  wild  plantain,  which 
attain  a  beautiful  maroon  and  yellow  shade.  Eaten  cooked  with  flsh,  they  are  not  more 
interesting  than  potatoes. 


THE  PEAKS  OF  TAHITI 

The  country  above  the  level  land  fringing  the  shore  of  the  lagoon  is  but  seldom 
explored,  sometimes  a  white  enthusiast  will  engage  a  few  bored  natives  to  accompany 
him  Into  the  Interior.  There  is  a  lake  at  the  head  of  the  largest  valley  In  which  eels 
with  human  ears  are  found  (sic).  They  are  descendants  of  a  hapless  maiden  who  got 
into  difficulties  with  a  malignant  god. 


A  GBOUP  OF  TAHITIAX   NATIVES  Copyright,  Kroepelein 

This  picture  shows  a  mixed  collection  of  Tahitians.  They  look  commonplace  enough, 
like  negroes  in  Bermuda,  but  there  is  hardly  a  native  in  the  picture  that  the  ordinary 
white  man  is  not  proud  to  call  friend.  They  just  photograph  badly.  It  is  safe  to  say 
that  half  these  folk  died  under  frightful  conditions  during  the  epidemic. 


PAPARA,    TAHITI 

From  the  heavy  swell 
breaking  in  the  background 
It  can  be  gathered  that 
Papara  is  situated  on  the 
windward  side  of  the  is- 
land. The  lagoon  stretch- 
Ing  on  each  side,  but  not 
seen  in  the  picture,  seeks 
an  outlet  at  this  point,  and 
a  fierce  current  of  half  salt 
water  undermines  the 
breakers  which  collapse  in 
a  mass  of  angry  surf.  The 
fresh-water  stream,  inter- 
fering with  the  work  of 
the  coral  insect,  has  cre- 
ated a  pass  in  the  reef. 


THE  BIVEB  PUNABUU,  TAHITI  A  TAHITIAN   HILL   CASTLE 

"I   will  find  peace  by  the  stream  in  the  valley,"   said   a  native   called   Moe.      So   he   built 
a  fare  of  some  modernity   and  accompanied  by  his  wife,   his  wife's  relations,   his  sister's 
husband   and   children,    his   grandmother   and   her   descendants,    he    sought   peace    by   the 
stream   in   the   valley.      He   almost   found   it — permanently. 
Gaugouln,  the  painter,  lived  in  a  house  like  this  in  the  valley  of  Fataua. 


BAY  OF  OPUXOIIOU 


Copyright,  Kroepelein 


Before  the  sun   bids  farewell  to  a  beautiful  portion  of  God's  vineyard. 


IN    THE   LAGOON    AT   FAGATAU 

We  had  borrowed  a  native's 
canoe,  and  while  junketing 
in  the  lagoon,  the  outrigger 
of  the  canoe  was  broken. 
Lazily,  and  aimlessly,  we 
are  trying  to  mend  it. 


WAITING  FOR  THE  NOEL        221 

girl  flesh,  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  arrival  of 
the  schooner  Tiare  from  Papeete  with  a  young 
half-caste  native  on  board  called  Peeano.  Peeano, 
whose  father  was  a  stray  white  man,  possessed 
some  rank  in  Tahiti  for  his  mother's  father  was  a 
native  prince  and  a  wealthy  landowner.  Peeano 
had  received  a  liberal  education  at  the  school  of 
the  Brothers  at  Papeete,  and  his  grandfather, 
who  himself  had  been  educated  in  England  at  a 
good  public  school,  had  endeavoured  to  instil  into 
his  mind  strange  ideas  of  morality.  Hence,  while 
innocence  was  an  unknown  experience  to  Peeano, 
he  had,  strangely  enough,  kept  himself  pure  and 
clean.  So  much  so,  in  fact,  that  his  grandfather, 
although  responsible  for  this  virtue,  had  grown 
anxious. 

He  had  therefore  sent  Peeano  off  to  cruise  on 
the  schooner,  hoping  that  the  boy  would  find  a 
suitable  wife  or  at  least  lose  his  more  inconvenient 
ideals. 

Peeano  was  an  exceedingly  handsome  young 
man.  Exposed  to  the  sun,  his  face,  naturally 
almost  white,  had  attained  a  rich  golden  bronze 
while  fair  hair  marked  his  Saxon  descent. 

Owing  to  the  fact  that  he  had  read  some  Eng- 
lish books,  including  an  ancient  copy  of  "  Ivanhoe  " 
which  had  been  left  behind  by  his  father,  his  ideas 
in  regard  to  his  future  wife  were  those  of  the  hero 
of  most  English  novels.  He  regarded  himself  as 
Ivanhoe,  and  at  the  time  of  his  arrival  in  Fagatau 


222  TAHITI  DAYS 

he  was  still  looking  for  the  Lady  Rowena.  The 
Brothers  at  Papeete  hoped  that  he  would  not  find 
her,  since  they  believed  that  he  had  a  vocation  for 
the  priesthood. 

The  arrival  of  the  schooner  was  of  course  an 
event  on  Fagatau,  and  a  great  himine  was 
promptly  arranged  for  that  very  night. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  entertainment  Peeano 
stood  with  the  captain  and  shook  hands  with  the 
chief  and  the  natives,  including  Tina  and  Hinano. 
Hinano  thought  that  she  had  never  seen  any  one 
quite  so  wonderful  as  Peeano,  and  she  hoped  that 
at  the  end  of  the  himine,  when  the  natives,  seizing 
their  sweethearts  and  other  people's  wives,  stroll 
midst  the  cocoanuts,  she  would  be  chosen  by  Peeano. 
As  for  Peeano  he  had  hardly  noticed  her,  for  he 
was  busy  shaking  hands  and  answering  questions 
about  Papeete  and  his  grandfather. 

Finally,  the  reception  being  over,  the  natives 
grouped  themselves  around  the  lamps  in  the 
clearing  and  commenced  their  chanting.  Hinano 
sat  apart  with  Tina,  close  to  a  large  lamp.  The 
light  from  the  lamp,  while  transforming  her  hair 
into  threads  of  bronze,  yet  performed  a  sweeter 
office  in  illuminating  her  great  big  eyes  which 
were  fixed  with  a  shy  wonder  upon  the  face  of 
Peeano.  She  made  a  sweet  picture,  and  the  trader, 
who  was  gradually  edging  nearer,  congratulated 
himself. 

The  himine  is  invariably  a  long  affair,  so  it  was 


WAITING  FOR  THE  NOEL        223 

not  surprising  that  after  a  time  Peeano  grew  bored, 
until  his  eyes,  wandering  from  the  singers,  met  the 
gentle  gaze  of  Hinano.  'What  a  pretty  girl," 
he  thought.  Just  at  that  moment  the  trader 
had  come  very  close,  and  his  arm  wan- 
dered round  the  waist  of  Hinano.  She  started, 
looked  at  the  heavy  old  features  of  the  white  man, 
and  then  pushing  him  away  she  said  angrily, 
"Go,  pig,  go!"  The  trader  laughed,  and,  exert- 
ing his  strength,  endeavoured  to  force  his  attention, 
upon  the  unwilling  girl. 

An  amatory  struggle  of  this  sort  is  not  unusual 
in  the  South  Seas,  and  it  would  have  passed  un- 
noticed if  Peeano  had  not  jumped  up  quickly, 
and,  encircling  the  singers,  reached  the  side  of 
Hinano,  where  laughingly  he  said,  "  No,  Mr. 
Smith,  this  vahine  is  not  for  you;  she  is  mine,  eh 
little  girl  ? "  Peeano  was  not  to  be  gainsaid,  and 
the  trader  withdrew  gracefully.  There  was  plenty 
of  time,  he  thought,  but  when  his  wife  saw  Peeano 
stroll  off  with  Hinano  she  took  courage,  and  com- 
menced to  shriek  her  treble  part  in  the  himine  with 
even  more  energy  than  the  rum  jar  had  given  her. 

Of  course,  Hinano  was  perfectly  willing  to  give 
herself  body  and  soul  to  Peeano,  so  that  it  was 
with  some  astonishment  that  she  found  herself 
being  treated  in  precisely  the  same  way  that  her 
father  had  treated  her.  It  must  be  admitted  that 
she  found  the  proceedings  dull  at  first,  but  when 
Peeano  led  her  to  the  beach  and,  sitting  under  the 


224  TAHITI  DAYS 

shade  of  a  young  palm  tree,  commenced  to  tell 
her  how  pretty  she  was,  her  white  blood  reacted. 
And  Peeano's  personality  being  insistent,  his 
thoughts  were  easily  communicated,  and  a  sweet 
peace  seemed  to  possess  her  little  mind.  The  two 
boys  lurking  behind  them,  hidden  by  the  cocoanut 
palms,  said,  '  The  man's  a  malm"  and  with- 
drew. 

A  strange  romance  now  commenced.  Peeano, 
much  to  the  regret  of  the  schooner  captain,  decided 
to  remain  on  Fagatau  for  a  few  weeks,  and  he 
directed  the  captain  to  call  for  him  on  his  way 
back  from  the  Marquesas.  The  two  lovers  erected 
a  small  ne-au  shelter  near  the  shore  and  Peeano 
used  to  sit  on  a  large  lump  of  coral  while  Hinano, 
busy  making  him  a  sugar-cane  hat,  would  listen 
while  he  told  her  tales  of  Papeete  and  the  great 
world  outside  the  reef. 

At  last  the  schooner  returned,  and  the  heart  of 
Hinano  grew  sad  when  she  realized  that  Peeano 
must  leave  her. 

They  spent  their  last  evening  together  in  the 
little  shelter,  and  Peeano,  taking  a  ring  which  he 
had  bought  from  the  Chinaman,  placed  it  on  her 
finger,  telling  her  that  they  were  now  engaged. 

'  This  ring,"  he  said,  "  is  sacred ;  it  has  magic, 
so  that  when  you  wear  it  you  are  mine.  No  white 
man  nor  native  will  come  near  you  until  we  are 
married.  I  will  return  to  Papeete  to  consult  my 
grandfather  about  the  wedding,  and  then  I  will 


return  to  you,  and  we  will  be  married  It  is 
good." 

Still  it.  was  a  heartbroken  girl  that  stood  on  the 
end  of  the  reef  when  the  schooner  disappeared 
below  the  horizon.  But  her  faith  was  infinite,  and 
she  spent  many  happy  hours  in  the  shelter,  busy 
making  all  kinds  of  muslin  gowns  ready  for  her 
marriage. 

But  months  passed  and  there  was  no  sign  of 
the  schooner,  so  that  her  heart  began  to  sink 
within  her. 

"  Peeano  is  a  very  rich  man,"  the  trader  said ; 
"  he  will  surely  marry  a  white  woman.  Why  not 
come  with  me?  I  will  take  you  to  Tahiti  and  we 
will  see  this  woman  that  he  has  taken." 

But  Hinano  merely  showed  him  her  ring. 
'  Why  not  marry  Tina?  "  she  suggested.  "  Tina 
is  a  good  woman  and  when  I  go  she  will  have  the 
lands  of  Tati;  I  belong  to  Peeano." 

Finally,  a  schooner  appeared  on  the  horizon 
and  there  was  much  excitement.  Hinano,  clad  in 
her  smartest  frock,  was  waiting  at  the  landing- 
place  when  the  first  surf  boat  came  over  the  reef. 
But,  alas,  Peeano  was  not  on  board.  There  was 
a  letter,  however,  stating  that  his  grandfather, 
while  agreeing  to  their  marriage,  had  yet  urged 
him  to  go  to  San  Francisco  to  buy  furniture  and 
to  perform  some  business  of  importance.  Peeano 
urged  Hinano  to  wait,  saying  that  he  would 
surely  return. 


226  TAHITI  DAYS 

Hinano  was  greatly  comforted,  and  the  trader's 
wife  felt  more  assurance. 

And  so  the  months  passed. 

Now  one  day  it  happened  that  Hinano,  frying 
some  pork  chops,  managed  to  burn  herself  badly. 
One  of  those  unfortunate  minor  explosions  .had 
occurred,  and  in  the  panic  she  had  dropped  the 
pan,  with  the  result  that  the  boiling  fat  poured 
over  her  forearm.  The  burn,  badly  attended  to, 
refused  to  heal.  It  would  show  signs  of  healing 
at  one  part  only  to  break  out  in  another.  After 
a  time  her  heels  became  affected,  and  finally  a 
condition  similar  to  that  on  her  arm  developed. 

The  white  trader  became  interested,  and  re- 
ported the  matter  to  the  priest  who  decided  to 
investigate.  It  was  fairly  obvious  that  Hinano 
was  suffering  from  the  disease  that  had  ended 
poor  Tati's  life. 

We  will  pass  over  the  unfortunate  details 
merely  by  saying  that  Hinano  was  forced  to  live 
alone  in  the  old  fare  where  Tati  had  died.  Her 
mother  used  to  bring  her  food,  and  reported  de- 
velopments to  the  trader. 

Hinano  became  dazed.  She  felt  little  pain,  but 
the  thought  of  Peeano's  return  disturbed  her 
greatly.  One  moment  she  would  hope  that  he 
had  married  the  white  woman  at  Papeete,  and 
then  the  next  she  prayed  to  God  that  he  would 
come  and  see  her.  "  No,  he  must  not  see  me,"  she 
said,  "  I  will  look  at  him  through  the  bamboos." 


WAITING  FOR  THE  NOEL        227 

When  the  village  was  sleeping  she  would 
wander  off  to  the  little  ne-au  shelter,  and  there 
her  mind  would  wander  back  to  the  happy  days 
she  had  spent  with  Peeano.  She  would  rest  her 
head  on  the  coral  chunk  where  he  had  sat,  and 
often  the  rising  sun  would  find  her  still  dreaming. 
But  unfortunately,  in  her  hurry  to  return  to  her 
house  one  day,  she  left  her  shawl,  and  this  was 
discovered  by  a  native  wandering  by.  The  place 
was  watched,  and  her  mother  gave  her  an  order 
from  the  chief,  that  if  she  went  to  the  shelter 
again,  her  food  would  be  stopped,  and  perhaps 
thej7  would  send  her  off  to  Papeete  to  be  segre- 
gated. For  a  time  Hinano  obeyed  this  order,  but 
finally  the  temptation  was  irresistible  and  she  re- 
turned only  to  find  the  place  burned  to  the 
ground.  But  with  her  hands  she  managed  to  clear 
away  the  debris  until  she  found  the  coral  chunk 
upon  which  Peeano  used  to  rest.  It  was  heavy, 
but  each  night  she  rolled  the  stone  nearer  and 
nearer  to  her  house.  Weeks  passed  before  she 
finally  managed  to  get  the  stone  to  the  compound, 
but  as  she  lay  with  her  head  on  its  rough  surface, 
she  felt  that  the  work  had  been  well  worth  while. 
The  stone  indeed  became  like  Jacob's  stone  at 
Bethel — the  base  of  a  ladder  that  took  her  worn- 
out  spirit  away  from  the  sorrows  of  life. 

Meanwhile  Peeano,  having  accomplished  his 
business  in  San  Francisco,  had  returned  to 
Papeete  laden  with  desirable  presents  for  Hinano. 


228  TAHITI  DAYS 

The  clerk  in  a  large  store  in  San  Francisco,  inter- 
ested in  the  handsome  boy  who  wanted  to  buy 
charming  presents  for  his  sweetheart,  had  sold  him 
a  simple  bridal  frock,  together  with  a  coronet  of 
orange  blossoms.  She  had  put  them  on  for  him, 
and  the  vision  of  Hinano  similarly  garbed  had 
overjoyed  him. 

Hence  he  waited  with  some  impatience  until  a 
schooner  was  ready  to  take  him  to  Fagatau. 

Once  more  he  sailed  on  the  Tiare,  and  the  cap- 
tain was  astonished  when  he  heard  that  Peeano 
had  remained  faithful  to  Hinano.  ;'  Why  didn't 
you  find  a  girl  in  America?  "  he  asked. 

"  Indeed,  the  white  women  in  Frisco  are  beau- 
tiful, but  there  are  none  like  Hinano  in  the  whole 
world.  Besides,  I  gave  her  the  sacred  ring,"  he 
explained,  finally. 

After  many  days,  Fagatau  appeared  on  the 
horizon,  but  the  wind  was  contrary,  and,  although 
in  sight  of  the  island  all  day,  it  looked  doubtful 
whether  it  would  be  possible  to  attempt  a  landing 
before  sunset.  However,  the  captain  liked  the 
impatient  young  man,  and  Peeano,  with  a  small 
bag  which  contained  the  bridal  frock  and  the 
coronet,  was  put  ashore  while  the  schooner  went 
off  to  cruise  until  the  morning. 

Peeano  left  the  bag  on  the  shore,  and  com- 
menced to  walk  towards  the  village.  It  was  al- 
ready quite  dark  when  he  reached  the  houses,  but 
the  barking  of  innumerable  dogs  soon  awakened 


WAITING  FOR  THE  NOEL        229 

the  sleeping  natives.  Many  called  "  Who's  that?  " 
but  Peeano  walked  on  to  the  little  house  where 
Tina  lived  and  called,  "  Hinano — Hinano."  There 
was  no  response  until  the  hoarse  accents  of  Tina 
replied,  "Who  calls  Hinano?  She  is  not  here." 
Finally  she  arose  from  the  veranda,  grunting  as 
her  huge  body  became  perpendicular.  "  Who  is 
the  fool  that  wants  Hinano?  Does  he  not  know 
that  she  is  no  good  to  men  now? "  She  came 
slowly  down  the  steps  and  recognized  Peeano. 
His  handsome,  boyish  face  was  smiling  mis- 
chievously. 

"Hush,  Tina,  not  a  word;  I  want  to  give 
Hinano  a  surprise.  Don't  let  her  hear.  Where  is 
she?  Is  that  her  on  the  veranda  with  you? 
What's  the  matter,  Tina?  Why  do  you  laugh? 
She  hasn't  gone  away?  Don't  laugh,  Tina,  I've 
got  a  present  for  you,  too.  What  is  it,  Tina?  " 

The  situation  seemed  infinitely  droll  to  Tina. 
Xever  having  loved  Hinano,  since  she  had  stolen 
the  affection  of  Tati,  Hinano's  misfortune  had 
seemed  providential. 

It  is  possible  that  she  might  have  been  brutal 
in  communicating  the  news,  if  the  chief,  scenting 
a  tragedy  and  recognizing  Peeano,  had  not  ap- 
proached. 

"  Come  with  me,  Peeano,"  he  said. 

'  But  no,  I  want  to  surprise  Hinano.  Where 
is  she?  I  want  to  surprise  her,"  said  Peeano  im- 
patiently. 


230  TAHITI  DAYS 

'  It  will  not  be  Hinano  that  will  receive  a  sur- 
prise," said  Tina,  "  but  Peeano."  She  cackled 
unpleasantly. 

'What  is  it?  Quick,  tell  me.  Has  the  trader 
taken  my  sweetheart?  Where  is  he?  I  will  kill 
him."  Peeano  was  becoming  angry. 

"  Hinano  is  sick,"  said  the  chief.  "  She  has  the 
white  sickness;  tomorrow  you  must  return  on  the 
schooner;  you  may  not  see  her." 

"No,  no!  She  has  not  the  white  sickness," 
Peeano  at  first  failed  to  understand  the  significance 
of  the  chief's  words.  '  Where  is  she?  I  must  go 
to  her,"  he  shouted;  "  tell  me,  you  fools;  why  do 
you  stand  around  like  dead  people;  where  is 
she?" 

"  She  is  in  the  house  of  Tati  on  the  windward 
side,  but  it  is  forbidden  to  visit  her,"  said  the  chief 
gently;  "besides,  it  is  better  not." 

"  Let  the  fool  go,"  said  Tina.  "  He  will  come 
back — running." 

Peeano  left  the  house  and  wandered  aimlessly 
around  the  village,  while  the  dogs  barked  and 
little  groups  of  natives  assembled  watching,  but 
not  interrupting  him.  Finally  he  commenced  to 
walk  quickly,,  and  the  natives  lost  sight  of  him  as 
he  disappeared  along  the  avenue  leading  to  the 
landing-place. 

"  I  am  going  to  see  Hinano,"  he  said.  :<  I'm 
going  to  see  Hinano."  He  laughed  happily. 

There  was  a  canoe  drawn  up  on  the  coral. 


WAITING  FOR  THE  NOEL        231 

'''  I  will  paddle  round  to  the  house,"  he  said. 

The  tide  was  high  and  there  was  enough  water 
on  the  reef  shelf  to  make  this  possible. 

'  But  I  must  take  the  wedding  gown,  and  the 
wreath  of  flowers;  Hinano  will  like  that." 

He  was  in  an  ecstasy,  as  he  quickly  removed 
these  from  the  bag.  In  a  few  minutes  he  was 
paddling  along  the  miniature  lagoon  towards  the 
little  house  of  Tati. 

At  the  house  of  Tati,  Hinano,  worn  out  from  a 
day  of  pain  and  discomfort,  was  sleeping.  Her 
head  was  resting  upon  the  coral  chunk  but  her 
mind  was  miles  across  the  water.  Dreaming,  she 
had  gone  to  Papeete  in  a  schooner,  and  as  the 
schooner  approached  the  beach,  a  canoe  had  put 
off  from  the  shore  bearing  a  young  man  whose 
figure  gradually  became  that  of  Peeano.  She 
bent  over  the  side  of  the  schooner. 

:'  Peeano,  you  have  come  to  meet  me,"  she  said ; 
"  the  sea  has  been  very  stormy  and  the  wind  al- 
ways blowing  against  the  schooner.  Now  we  are 
in  calm  waters.  It  is  good." 

But  Peeano  answered  never  a  word.  The 
canoe  was  close  beside  the  schooner,  but  Peeano 
stood  looking  up  at  her  with  love  and  gladness 
in  his  eyes.  He  seemed  to  be  trying  to  speak,  but 
his  words  failed  to  come. 

"Speak,  Peeano!"  cried  Hinano.  "Speak, 
speak!"  she  shrieked. 

The   sound   of  her   voice   awoke  her,    and   the 


232  TAHITI  DAYS 

reality  of  her  position  once  more  came  upon  her. 
Weeping  bitterly,  she  felt  the  coral  chunk,  and, 
after  a  few  moments,  she  was  sleeping  once 
rnore. 

Therefore,  when  she  was  awakened  by  a  voice 
calling,  "Hinano!  Hinano!  I  have  come  back. 
It  is  I — Peeano,"  it  seemed  to  her  to  be  part  of 
her  original  dream. 

"  He  can  speak  now,"  she  thought. 

But  the  voice  went  on  calling,  so  that  she  rose 
from  her  mat  on  the  veranda,  and  looking  across 
the  lagoon  where  the  moon  had  made  a  pathway  of 
light,  she  saw  a  canoe  approaching.  Still  believing 
herself  to  be  dreaming  she  went  out  and  com- 
menced walking  down  to  the  beach.  The  canoe 
came  up  onto  the  beach  with  a  crunching  sound 
and  Peeano  stepped  ashore.  "  Come,  my  Hinano, 
come,"  he  said.  He  stretched  out  his  arms.  Hi- 
nano now  half-awake,  hesitated,  but  obeying  an 
irresistible  impulse,  she  flew  into  his  arms.  *  You 
waited  a  very  long  time,"  he  said,  "  a  very  long 
time,  but  now  the  wedding  is  ready;  here  are  the 
wedding  garments." 

He  handed  her  the  long  silken  wedding  frock, 
and  the  wreath  of  orange  blossoms,  which  she 
quickly  donned.  Peeano  did  not  see  the  drawn 
face,  the  disfigured  arms.  He  merely  saw  a 
beautiful  maiden  with  gorgeous  hair  hanging 
round  her  shoulders.  He  saw  Hinano  as  he  had 
dreamt  about  her,  as  she  had  been. 


WAITING  FOR  THE  NOEL        233 

"  Come  into  the  canoe,"  he  said;  "  there  is  little 
time,  we  must  hurry." 

She  stepped  into  the  canoe,  sitting  in  the  stern, 
while  Peeano  took  the  paddle. 

"  Always  we  are  together  now,  my  Hinano," 
he  said ;  "  always." 

In  a  few  minutes  they  reached  the  edge  of  the 
reef.  The  sea  was  calm,  but  the  heavy  ocean 
swell  burst  upon  the  rocks  with  some  fury.  But 
Peeano  was  expert,  and  soon  they  were  out  on 
the  bosom  of  the  great  Pacific,  following  the 
pathway  of  the  moon  who  looked  down  kindly 
upon  two  lovers  reunited.  And  so  they  went  on 
forever  and  ever — Peeano  and  Hinano. 

And  at  night  time  when  a  schooner  is  becalmed 
on  the  Pacific,  and  when  the  natives,  tired  of  sing- 
ing and  dancing,  are  sleeping  on  the  deck,  the  man 
at  the  wheel  can  sometimes  hear  a  faint  murmur 
in  the  distance. 

"  It  is  Peeano  calling  Hinano,"  he  says,  as  he 
strikes  a  light  and  starts  another  cigarette. 


CHAFER  XXI 

THE  TEARIA 

AT  last  a  schooner  arrived.  She  had  appeared 
off  the  island  during  the  night,  and  her  presence 
was  made  known  by  a  small  boy  rushing  along  the 
avenue  calling,  "  Palii!  Pahi!  "  A  ship,  a  ship ! 

A  few  minutes  afterwards,  an  exceedingly  hand- 
some boy  of  thirteen  years,  nicely  dressed  in  white 
linen,  approached  and  handed  me  a  letter  from 
Captain  Brander.  The  letter  stated  that  the  Noel, 
having  been  wrecked,  was  unable  to  reach  Fagatau, 
but  that  he  had  asked  his  very  good  friend  Mon- 
sieur La  Farge  to  call  for  me.  La  Farge  would 
take  me  to  Tahiti  for  $150. 

The  ordinary  fare  from  Fagatau  to  Papeete  is 
$40,  therefore  it  was  difficult  not  to  feel  depressed. 
However,  when  La  Farge  arrived  himself,  I 
pointed  out  that  he  was  charging  me  nearly  four 
times  the  usual  amount.  He  admitted  this  po- 
litely but  he  agreed  to  take  anything  I  liked  to 
give  him,  and  as  a  matter  of  fact  at  the  end  of  the 
journey  he  at  first  refused  to  take  a  penny.  But 
he  received  his  ordinary  fare  with  a  slight  addition. 

M.  La  Farge  is  an  interesting  character.  Al- 
though he  has  lived  in  the  islands  for  many  years, 

234 


THE  TEARIA  235 

he  has  never  learnt  the  language.  He  does  not 
want  to.  Neither  does  he  speak  more  than  three 
words  of  English.  He  had  been  married  happily 
in  Paris,  but  his  wife  had  died  giving  birth  to  his 
first  baby.  Overcome  with  grief  he  had  sought 
rest  for  his  mind  in  the  South  Seas.  The  baby 
had  grown  up  and  had  become  a  famous  French 
actor,  and  M.  La  Farge  used  to  visit  him  every 
five  years.  Unfortunately  his  son  had  been  killed 
early  in  the  war,  and  La  Farge  had  little  intention 
of  visiting  France  again. 

He  had  taken  unto  himself  a  wife  from  among 
the  people  of  Mangarewa,  who  had  been  in  her 
youth  very  lovely  and  even  when  I  knew  her 
she  was  still  beautiful.  La  Farge  treated  her 
gently,  and  received  from  her  a  dog-like 
affection. 

He  had  bought  an  ancient,  though  fast,  schooner, 
and  his  entire  life  was  spent  on  the  Tearia.  Even 
in  Papeete  he  refuses  to  leave  his  little  ship,  sleep- 
ing and  eating  on  board. 

The  whole  population  of  Fagatau  came  to  the 
beach  to  say  farewell.  It  was  heart-rending. 
However,  accompanied  by  Tenuaha,  and  covered 
with  beads  and  flowers,  we  were  rowed  out  to  the 
schooner,  where  La  Farge  sold  as  much  mer- 
chandise as  possible  to  Tenuaha. 

It  was  hard  to  say  good-bye  to  Tenuaha.  A 
parting  with  a  friend,  and  a  well-loved  friend,  is 
a  heart-sinking  experience. 


236  TAHITI  DAYS 

However,  after  a  few  hours  Tenuaha  went 
ashore  and  the  journey  commenced. 

The  Tearia,  seeking  copra,  decided  to  visit 
Fakahina,  a  neighbouring  atoll,  and  with  little 
wind  and  still  less  to  follow,  it  seemed,  we  passed 
into  the  night. 

But  before  darkness  came  upon  the  face  of  the 
waters  Tenuaha  could  be  seen  standing  on  the  reef. 
For  a  long  time,  with  a  powerful  glass,  I  could 
see  his  trim  figure.  He  was  waving  occasionally, 
watching  the  schooner  as  she  slowly  disappeared. 
It  was  only  distance  and  the  night  that  made  him 
go  into  his  house. 

The  after  cabin  of  the  Tearia  was  a  veritable 
little  home.  Madame,  slightly  ill,  alas,  lay  on  a 
bunk,  but  the  boy  Gaston  and  the  captain  kept 
up  an  hysterical  form  of  conversation  with  M. 
La  Farge.  It  is  extraordinary  how  a  Frenchman 
can  last  out.  His  eternal  vivacity  must  cause 
a  tremendous  strain  upon  his  nervous  resist- 
ance. 

The  captain,  with  one-quarter  French  blood  in 
his  veins,  was  the  Frenchiest  person  I  have  ever 
met.  He  had  a  fierce  French  moustache  and  he 
used  his  hands  violently  as  he  spoke.  Gaston, 
the  boy,  was  almost  white;  he  probably  had  but 
one-eighth  native  blood.  His  eyes  were  large 
and  of  a  wonderful  Chinese  blue  colour,  with  a 
faint  suggestion  of  pink  over  them.  He  was  an 
exceedingly  bad  and  charming  boy.  La  Farge 


THE  TEAEIA  237 

adopted  him,  and  said  that  his  blood  was  royal. 
It  probably   was. 

Eating  was  invariably  an  affair  on  the  Tearia, 
nay  a  ceremony.  Bowing  one  another  to  chairs 
we  would  all  sit  down.  La  Farge  bowed  to  the 
captain,  the  captain  bowed  to  me,  while  Gaston 
made  some  highly  irritating  remark  to  the  cap- 
tain, which  both  annoyed  and  pleased  M.  La 
Farge.  Then  the  menu,  so  vital,  would  be  dis- 
cussed, while  a  native  boy  waited  perfectly,  not 
minding  the  hysterical  curses  and  epithets  flung  at 
him  by  both  men.  The  cook  was  an  artist,  and  we 
ate  soup,  fish,  turtle  beef  steak,  a  pate  of  pork 
and  finally  some  cherries  followed  by  coffee  and 
cigarettes. 

Madame  did  not  sit  at  table;  she  was  ill;  there 
was  no  room;  and  besides  she  had  never  aspired 
to  such  an  honour  in  spite  of  her  twenty-three 
years'  devotion  to  La  Farge.  She  would  have 
hated  it  anyway.  But  La  Farge  chose  her  food, 
laughing,  joking,  and  treating  her  like  a  charming 
child.  Madame  is  religious;  she  worships  two 
gods;  one  and  the  most  favoured  is  La  Farge. 
Like  all  her  race  she  loves  to  give,  and  during 
her  first  conversation  with  me  she  gave  me  pearls, 
oranges,  strings  of  beads  and  a  cake  of  soap. 

After  dinner  we  all  sat  on  the  poop.  The  night 
was  glorious,  without  a  ripple  on  the  water.  M. 
La  Farge  commenced  to  sing,  and  it  was  terrible. 
But  he  had  no  sooner  stopped,  much  to  the  relief 


238  TAHITI  DAYS 

of  the  captain,  when  we  heard  that  quick  insistent 
sound  of  native  music  on  a  mouth-organ,  allied 
to  much  boyish  laughter.  The  crew  were  having  a 
dance,  so  I  joined  them.  One  man,  the  second 
mate,  was  lying  on  his  stomach  playing  the  mouth- 
organ,  while  a  native,  called  Rou,  was  busily 
dancing. 

Rou,  about  nineteen  years  old,  was  a  perfect 
type  of  the  native  of  the  past.  His  head  was 
small  and  well  shaped  with  a  fine  forehead;  the 
nose  was  slightly  Jewish,  wrhile  his  lips  were  thin 
and  well  formed.  His  hands  and  feet  were  not 
large,  and  his  chest  was  deep  and  great.  His 
legs  were  beautifully  modelled  and  altogether,  he 
might  easily  have  posed  for  the  statue  of  a  Greek 
athlete.  There  was  nothing  about  him  large  nor 
coarse,  and  his  head  was  covered  by  a  mass  of  soft 
brown  curly  hair. 

Although  his  hair  was  beautiful,  his  one  dread 
was  that  he  might  be  mistaken  for  a  Fijian.  He 
danced  in  the  moonlight  while  the  sail  flapped  and 
the  cheery  accents  of  M.  La  Farge  from  the  poop 
could  be  heard  singing,  "  Bon  soir,  Madame  de  la 
lun — e."  The  dance  ended  with  a  staccato  move- 
ment midst  much  laughter.  Soon  the  man  at  the 
wheel  was  relieved  and  he  came  down  and  joined 
the  party.  This  man  was  a  different  type,  being 
huge  and  brawny.  If  Rou  suggested  a  Greek 
athlete,  Aro,  for  so  he  was  called,  reminded  one 
of  a  picture  of  a  Roman  gladiator.  His  features 


THE  TEARIA  239 

were  slightly  coarse,  but  his  body  was  perfect. 
On  one  of  his  huge  biceps  was  tattooed  ff  Aro  taata 
Tahiti"  Aro  a  man  of  Tahiti.  Aro  had  the  body 
of  a  colossus,  the  mind  of  a  child,  and  absolutely  no 
power  to  resist  drink.  After  rum  and  wine  have 
got  him  fairly  by  the  neck,  he  becomes  a  miserable 
sodden  fool.  But  he  had  to  live,  he  had  no  land, 
and  generally  he  put  up  no  resistance  when  urged 
to  join  a  schooner.  Possibly  this  was  the  best 
thing  in  the  world  for  him,  for  on  the  Tearia  he  got 
no  drink,  and  he  became  just  a  delightful  clean 
fine  boy,  full  of  fun  and  humour,  always  willing 
to  dance,  sing  and  even  to  speak  a  little  English. 
Aro  is  a  famous  Tahitian  boxer. 

After  a  time  Madame  joined  us  and  became 
Maria,  a  cheery  native  woman  who  could  hula-hula 
with  the  best  of  them.  And  so  we  danced  and 
sang,  while  the  steady  old  moon  looked  even  more 
benignant  than  usual.  The  schooner  was  rolling 
gently  and  kindly.  The  spirit  of  Robert  Louis 
must  have  been  with  us. 

The  chief  mate  was  white,  and  might  have  been 
called  an  International,  for  he  had  British,  Ameri- 
can, Danish,  Norwegian,  Spanish  and  German 
blood  in  him.  The  result  was  a  blond  sort  of  per- 
son. He  lived  for'ard  with  a  photograph  of  his 
wife's  family  and  a  raw-boned  Scotch-looking 
native  of  great  strength.  Ashore,  he  too  is  a 
drunkard,  but  at  sea  he  is  a  thoroughly  good  sea- 
man. For  while  the  captain  was  snoring  in  the 


240  TAHITI  DAYS 

cabin,  the  chief  mate  was  always  sitting  on  the 
poop  near  the  wheel,  seeing  that  all  was  well. 

The  captain  snored  distressingly.  If  during 
fine  weather  we  were  sleeping  on  the  after  deck, 
above  the  creak-creaking  of  the  mainsail  boom  as 
it  strained  at  the  lashing,  above  all  the  other 
sounds  that  a  ship  makes  during  a  calm — those 
ghostly  creaks  and  ripples — above  everything, 
the  fearsome  snore  of  the  captain  could  be  heard. 
During  heavy  weather  it  was  quite  impossible  to 
sleep  in  the  cabin  with  the  snore  of  the  captain. 
It  was  only  when  he  got  up  to  play  solitaire  at 
four  in  the  morning,  that  sleep  became  possible. 
This  snore  combined  the  sound  of  the  ordinary 
conventional  snore  with  the  noise  as  of  escaping 
gas  through  a  pipe. 

The  captain  had  lost  his  young  wife,  recently, 
and  ashore  he  is  suitably  decorated  with  crepe. 

Owing  to  the  lack  of  wind  it  took  us  twenty-four 
hours  to  reach  Fakahina. 

Fakahina,  having  been  planted  with  cocoanuts 
for  a  considerable  period,  is  an  exceedingly 
wealthy  island.  One  capitalist — a  native — owns  a 
chateau,  with  a  capacious  veranda  like  that  of  a 
boating  club.  Wearing  a  hat  swathed  in  crepe, 
and  surrounded  by  innumerable  relations,  he  re- 
ceived us  with  a  sweet  melancholy  air  of  impor- 
tance. His  rooms  were  large  and  furnished  in  the 
correct  French  style.  A  few  hundred  yards  out 
in  the  lagoon,  he  had  built  himself  a  small  sleeping- 


THE  TEAEIA  241 

chamber,  where  he  slept  free  from  mosquitoes. 
This  gentleman  very  kindly  presented  me  with  a 
large  turtle. 

We  lunched  with  a  French  trader,  drinking 
strange  liquids  from  bottles,  and  feeling  elevated 
afterwards. 

The  chief  having  decided  to  give  a  formal  re- 
ception, I  soon  found  myself  possessed  of  thirty 
roosters,  a  deceased  pig,  many  beads  and  some 
pearls.  I  met  my  old  friend  Peeno  who  had  been 
a  fellow-traveller  on  the  Tereora.  He  had  mar- 
ried the  quarter-caste  and  seemed  happy  though 
uncertain.  As  we  passed  his  house  we  heard  a 
cracked  voice  singing,  "  Farewell  my  love,  my  own 
true  love,  this  parting  gives  me  pain—  — ,"  and  an 
old  white-headed  Englishman  emerged  from  a 
palm-leaf  hut  and  entered  another.  He  was  the 
father-in-law  of  Peeno  and  was  drunk.  He  had 
become  mad,  and  lived  always  with  a  large  rum 
jar.  His  income  is  roughly  $5,000  per  year,  so  his 
daughters  allow  him  plenty  of  rum,  while  they  use 
his  money.  His  native  wife  had  bequeathed  him 
a  great  deal  of  land.  A  pathetic  picture  of  a 
dead  man! 

Since  there  was  no  copra  to  be  obtained  at 
Fakahina,  we  left  that  evening,  and  a  fine  stiff 
breeze  brought  us  to  Hikuero  the  next  day. 

We  loaded  pearl  shell  at  Hikuero,  and  then 
sailed  for  Papeete.  During  the  voyage  we  stopped 
at  an  uninhabited  island  to  shoot  wild  fowl,  and  to 


242  TAHITI  DAYS 

get  fish  for  Miggimiggi.  That  young  lady  had 
been  the  cause  of  constant  worry. 

I  had  brought  a  can  filled  with  small  fish  and 
several  small  eels  from  Fagatau,  but  she  had  soon 
eaten  these,  leaving  us  worried  as  to  her  diet. 

She  refused  to  eat  turtle  or  meat.  Once  we 
opened  a  tin  of  sardines  and  cutting  the  turtle 
into  strips  we  camouflaged  these  with  the  sardine 
skins.  This  was  successful,  once. 

One  day  a  large  shark  was  seen  hovering  round 
the  schooner.  Swimming  just  above  his  huge 
back  were  the  usual  striped  pilot  fish.  So  we  de- 
cided to  catch  the  shark,  hoping  to  spear  the  pilot 
fish  for  Miggimiggi  when  we  should  get  the  shark 
to  the  surface.  A  stout  line  with  a  huge  hook 
was  flung  overboard  near  the  shark.  He  promptly 
disappeared  like  streaked  lightning,  but  after  a 
time  the  two  pilot  fish  approached  the  bait,  and 
having  smelt  it,  they  in  turn  disappeared.  A  few 
moments  afterwards  the  shark  made  a  quick  dart, 
and  soon  four  men  were  pulling  him  to  the  side  of 
the  schooner.  The  pilot  fish,  imagining  that  their 
master  was  having  a  particularly  heavy  feast,  kept 
close  beside  him  as  he  lashed  the  water  into  foam, 
but  all  efforts  to  spear  them  proved  abortive. 
Finally  the  shark  was  drawn  close  enough  to  the 
schooner  to  allow  Aro  to  crash  a  great  spar  onto 
his  head,  and  in  a  few  moments  he  was  on  board. 
Fixed  to  his  abdomen  was  a  small  parasite  fish, 
and  this  apparently  proved  toothsome  to  Miggi- 


THE  TEAEIA  243 

miggi.  She  ate  of  the  shark,  too,  but  did  not  like 
it  very  much.  The  sailors  ate  certain  portions  of 
the  flesh,  but  except  for  the  great  fins  which  were 
reserved  for  sale  to  the  Chinese  in  Papeete,  most  of 
his  carcass  was  thrown  overboard. 

The  uninhabited  island  was  small  and  teeming 
with  bird  life.  Fish  were  plentiful,  and  the  sailors 
had  great  sport  spearing  many  more  than  they 
could  possibly  eat.  Having  no  gun,  and,  since  we 
needed  game  for  the  menu,  it  was  necessary  to 
climb  the  trees  and  kill  the  young  birds.  These 
were  nearly  as  large  as  geese,  and  they  objected 
strenuously  to  being  killed.  They  felt  so  helpless, 
so  large  and  ungainly,  and  any  effort  to  escape 
merely  caused  them  to  flop  onto  the  ground, 
smashing  their  great  baby  wings  in  the  process. 
Their  flesh  is  not  unsavory,  but  the  process  of 
killing  them  was  unpleasant. 

There  were  many  birds  of  Miggimiggi's  breed 
flying  about,  and  Gaston  succeeded  in  catching 
one  who  had  just  left  the  parental  nest.  Too 
old  to  be  tamed,  it  would  probably  have  died  a 
slow,  lingering  death  in  captivity,  but  Gaston 
pointed  out  that  it  was  precisely  the  same  size  as 
Miggimiggi,  and  he  wanted  to  keep  it  badly.  All 
efforts  to  make  him  let  the  bird  go  having  failed, 
it  was  necessary  to  take  more  drastic  action,  which 
being  successful,  so  enraged  the  young  man  that 
he  ran  up  a  cocoanut  tree,  swearing  that  he  would 
drop  and  kill  himself.  But  when  it  was  pointed 


244  TAHITI  DAYS 

out  to  him  that  this  would  rid  the  world  of  an 
exceedingly  bad  boy,  he  lost  his  suicidal  idea  and 
commenced  saying,  "  Pua  Paratane,  pua  Para- 
tane'' pig  of  an  Englishman.  The  natives  listen- 
ing to  this  blasphemy,  grew  frightened,  expecting 
the  world  to  end,  but  when  they  told  M.  La  Farge 
later,  he  became  hysterical,  furious,  sarcastic,  and 
finally  placed  Gaston  across  his  knee,  and  there 
were  sharp  cracking  sounds,  followed  by  a  hideous 
wail.  Gaston  neither  forgot  nor  forgave. 

A  fair  breeze  lasted  us  all  the  way  to  Tahiti, 
and  the  Tearia  often  made  eight  knots.  The  voy- 
age was  delightful,  but  when  we  finally  got  inside 
the  lagoon  I  was  extremely  glad.  Miggimiggi  was 
also  very  happy,  especially  when  we  reached  my 
house,  when  I  was  able  to  catch  her  fifty  or  so 
little  fish. 

It  was  a  relief  to  be  back  at  the  little  house  at 
Taunoa.  Wong  beamed  with  delight  at  my  return 
and  shook  me  warmly  by  the  hand. 

He'd  robbed  the  Norwegian,  who  had  lived  in 
my  house  during  my  absence,  of  one  hundred 
francs. 


FIRE-WALKING  ON  TAHITI 

'  THE  interesting  part  of  fire-walking  is  the 
alleged  immunity  of  the  performers  from  burns. 
On  this  point  authorities  and  eye-witnesses  differ 
greatly.  .  .  .  S.  P.  Langley  who  witnessed  a  fire- 
walk  in  Tahiti,  declares,  however,  that  the  whole 
rite  as  there  practiced  is  a  mere  symbolic  farce." 
I  quote  from  the  Encyclopedia  Britannica,  to 
whose  hospitable  pages  I  went  seeking  some  scien- 
tific explanation  of  the  undoubted  fact,  that  sixty 
or  so  odd  souls,  or  soles  (the  pun  is  irresistible), 
including  my  own  of  little  faith,  passed  along  a 
trench  two  feet  below  the  surface,  crammed  with 
white-hot  stones,  without  more  discomfort  than  a 
feeling  as  of  having  removed  a  steaming  ginger 
cake  from  a  hot  oven.  I  sought  scientific  informa- 
tion, because  a  big  burly  Anglo-Saxon,  who  had 
not  been  invited  to  the  ceremony  because  of  his 
irreligious  face,  gave  that  night  at  dinner  a 
plausible,  exact,  and  satisfactory  explanation  of 
the  whole  phenomena.  His  explanation  was  so 
plausible,  indeed,  that  I  lacked  the  courage  to 
question  him.  The  Encyclopedia  is  more  humble, 
though  quite  vague ;  the  only  thing  to  do  is  to  tell 

245 


246  TAHITI  DAYS 

you  in  the  simplest  manner  possible  exactly  what 
happened  when  I  saw  the  Tahitian  fire-walkers. 

I  admitted  above  that  I  had  myself  walked  over 
the  white-hot  stones,  but  fearing  to  lie  in  print,  I 
hastily  add  that  although  I  fumbled  with  the 
laces  of  my  canvas  shoes,  I  was  easily  persuaded 
to  keep  them  on  while  I  fire-walked.  Still,  the 
rubber  soles,  which  normally  give  so  unpleasant  an 
odour  when  exposed  to  heat,  passed  through  the 
fiery  test  unscathed. 

Although  I  haven't  the  heart  to  call  the  cere- 
mony a  "  symbolic  farce,"  because,  like  you,  I 
don't  know  what  a  symbolic  farce  is,  I  would  be 
pleased'  to  give  you  a  more  scientific  explanation 
than  is  here  contained,  if  I  knew  of  one.  But  I 
don't. 

Kroepelien,  who  shared  my  fare  during  my  re- 
maining days  in  Tahiti,  arranged  the  whole  thing 
with  200  francs.  While  the  200  francs  were 
necessary,  they  were  in  a  sense  incidental,  for  I 
suspect  that  no  other  white  man  on  the  island 
could  have  managed  the  affair  so  well.  Except 
for  Kroepelien  and  myself,  the  hidden  valley  near 
the  coast  was  happily  immune  from  white  men. 
Both  of  us  kindly  persons,  we  were  slightly  hurt 
when  it  was  reported  to  us  that  an  old  woman 
with  teeth  hanging  like  festoons,  had  remarked 
in  a  guttural  voice,  "  These  papaa  (white  men) 
are  pleased  to  look;  not  long  ago,  we'd  have  been 
pleased  to  look  at  them — roasting." 


FIRE-WALKING  IN  TAHITI      247 

In  the  centre  of  a  woodland  glen,  surrounded 
by  breadfruit  trees  and  banana  palms,  a  trench, 
twelve  feet  long,  four  feet  deep  and  four  feet 
wide  had  been  dug.  Some  hours  before  the  cere- 
mony, a  fire  had  been  kindled  in  the  trench.  On 
top  of  the  fire,  which  consisted  of  large  burning 
logs,  sufficient  stones  of  eight  to  ten  inches  in 
diameter  had  been  placed  to  line  the  bottom  of  the 
trench  two  deep.  On  top  of  the  stones,  a  second 
and  fiercer  fire  had  been  kindled,  and  when  the 
logs,  below  and  on  top  of  the  stones,  became  red 
hot,  the  whole  was  covered  with  earth  so  that  the 
heat  might  be  contained. 

A  short  time  before  the  ceremony,  the  earth 
and  ashes  were  removed,  exposing  the  trench  filled 
with  white-hot  stones.  You  could  see  that  shiver- 
ing effect,  noticeable  in  the  immediate  air  sur- 
rounding any  hot  object.  I  threw  a  piece  of  paper 
onto  the  stones — the  heat  was  sufficiently  great  to 
make  this  operation  trying — and  at  once  the  paper 
became  carbonized;  it  hardly  had  time  to  break 
into  open  flame. 

Sixty  or  so  natives,  men,  women  and  dogs,  in- 
cluding a  few  highly  respectable  half-castes,  had 
arrived.  They  felt  hysterical,  and  appeared  silly. 

Near  the  trench  stood  six  handsome  young  na- 
tives dressed  in  spotless  white  linen,  with  white 
handkerchiefs  fastened  tightly  round  their  heads. 
At  their  head  stood  the  chief,  or  the  high  priest 
of  the  ceremony.  Fastened  to  the  breasts  of  their 


248  TAHITI  DAYS 

tunics  were  two  star-like  objects,  cut  from  some 
sacred  palm  leaf.  Each  bore  in  his  right  hand  one 
of  those  small  palms  for  which  you  pay  so  heavily 
on  Fifth  Avenue,  but  which  grows  wild  in  Tahiti. 

At -a  nod  from  Kroepelien — I'm  sorry  about  the 
nod,  but  here  the  200  francs  spoke — the  high 
priest  gave  a  sharp  command.  With  military  pre- 
cision, the  six  young  men  sprang  to  attention, 
precisely  like  an  excellent  squad  on  parade.  Hold- 
ing the  base  of  the  small  palm,  firmly  clasped, 
with  the  fingers  to  the  front  and  the  thumb  point- 
ing upwards  to  the  rear,  they  closed  their  eyes, 
while  the  priest  commenced  a  long  prayer  in  a 
sonorous  voice  suggesting  that  of  a  Methodist 
priest.  I  don't  think  he  was  praying  to  the  devil, 
for  his  voice  was  reverent  and  kindly,  but  you 
never  can  tell. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  prayer,  led  by  the  chief, 
the  priestly  company  solemnly  marched  seven 
times  round  the  trench  of  white-hot  stones. 
(Please  don't  seek  symbolism,  nor  significance 
in  the  number  seven.  I  didn't  count;  it  may  have 
been  five  or  eight  times!)  The  rank  and  file  now 
stood  back,  while  the  chief,  waving  his  palm  in  a 
precise  manner,  walked  towards  the  trench,  making 
many  prayers.  He  beat  his  feet  with  the  palm,  he 
beat  the  hot  stones  immediately  in  front  of  him 
with  the  palm,  then  slowly,  and  in  the  most  ordi- 
nary manner,  he  walked  along  the  white-hot  path- 
way. One  expected  to  see  and  smell  steam  arising, 


Copyright,  Kroepelein 


Till:  F IKK- WALKERS   OF  PIRAE 

The   Procession   of   Fire-walkers   approaching  the    Oven. 


THE   CHIEF  OF  THE  PRIESTLY  PARTY 
OK  FIBE-WALKERS 


THE      PROCESSION       ENTERING 
TRENCH   OF  HOT   STONES 


THE 


HALFWAY   ACROSS  TIIK  TRENCH 


THE  END  OF  THE  CEREMONY  PROPER, 
KEFOBE  THE  CROWD  WERE  ALLOWED 
TO  WALK 


OUR  HOSPITAL   STAFF  AND  AMBULANCE 


THE   AVEME  LEADING   TO  THE  RESIDENCE  OF  THE  FRENCH   GOVERNOR   OF 
THE   SOCIETY   ISLANDS 


(KOSSING  TKAVAVA,   MOOREA 

It  had  been  hoped  that  the  flu  would  not  spread  to  Moorea.  where 
there  was  no  resident  doctor.  But  although  Moorea  is  separated 
from  Tahiti  by  some  miles  of  water,  no  effective  attempt  was  made 
to  save  the  population  from  death.  One  boat  started  off  from 
Tahiti  to  reach  Moorea,  but  the  crew,  smitten  with  the  scourge, 
Knve  up  all  effort  to  sail  the  craft  and  she  drifted  onto  the  reef. 


FIRE-WALKING  IN  TAHITI      249 

like  that  arising  when  a  new  horseshoe  is  fitted  to 
a  well-rasped  hoof;  but  no,  he  arrived  at  the  other 
end  without  mishap.  Having  made  a  few  more 
prayers,  of  thankfulness,  I  presume,  he  once  more 
returned  over  the  stones  to  his  company  of  dis- 
ciples, some  of  whom  appeared  decidedly  nervous. 

Each  man  now  raised  a  foot  in  turn,  while  the 
chief  swished  their  soles  with  his  palm.  More 
prayers  followed,  and  then  the  little  company 
solemnly  walked  along  the  trench.  Apparently, 
one  or  two,  possibly  weak  brethren  with  little 
faith,  or  not  enough,  were  burnt,  for  they  received 
particular  attention  from  the  chief  in  the  way  of 
palm  swishing  on  the  soles  of  their  feet.  The 
priestly  party,  having  walked  up  and  down  the 
white-hot  pathway  seven  times,  the  trench  was 
thrown  open  to  the  proletariat,  who,  however, 
showed  a  decided  unwillingness  to  venture. 

Nevertheless,  the  old  hag  who  had  made  the  sug- 
gestive remarks  about  Kroepelien  and  myself,  came 
forward,  and  without  a  pause,  she  walked  over  the 
stones,  muttering  the  most  blood-curdling  prayers. 
After  some  hesitation  she  was  followed  by  others, 
until  it  was  necessary  to  form  a  queue. 

After  a  short  discussion  with  the  chief,  Kroe- 
pelien walked,  and  I  followed. 

I  don't  believe  in  spirits — much;  the  only  spook 
I've  detected  at  a  seance  has  been  the  ubiquitous 
spirit  of  Ego;  but  as  I  walked  over  that  uneven 
pathway  of  hot  stones,  the  Spirit-Of-The-Many- 


250  TAHITI  DAYS 

Things-Not-Understood  filled  my  mind  with  a 
great  wonder. 

That  the  stones  I  walked  over  were  burning 
hot,  (not  white  hot  when  I  walked,  for  more  than 
half  an  hour  had  elapsed  since  their  exposure  to 
the  air),  I  am  willing  to  swear  by — anything.  I 
felt  the  heat  on  my  legs,  on  my  face — fierce,  in- 
tolerable. Yet  the  soles  of  my  canvas  shoes  were 
unharmed. 

The  whole  performance  took  place  before 
luncheon,  a  highly  unromantic  time.  That  an  ex- 
perience, seeming  at  the  time  normal,  bordering 
on  the  banal,  cannot  be  suitably  explained  by  the 
Encyclopedia  Britannica,  or  any  one  else,  is 
strange. 

I  tried  to  discover  the  true  significance  of  the 
ceremony,  but  no  suitable  explanation  was  forth- 
coming. 

This  fire-walking  ceremony  was  the  only  relic  of 
heathen  days  I  detected  in  Tahiti.  Princess  Ma- 
tauero  with  her  husband  used  to  attend  some  dark 
meetings  at  Papara,  but,  since  the  ceremonies  were 
mixed  up  with  Christian  prayers,  she  found  little 
to  interest  or  amuse  her. 

They're  dying,  the  Tahitians — nothing  can  save 
them  now.  It  would  not  be  surprising  if,  de 
profundis,  the  remnant  called  unto  the  gods  of 
happier  days  to  save  them. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE  EPIDEMIC 

"On,  God,  I  am  very  sorry;"  the  voice  grew 
almost  inaudible,  but  midst  the  death  rattles,  the 
fight  for  breath,  it  continued :  "  I  am  sorry  for  all 
the  things  that  I  have  done  wrong;  please  forgive 
me  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake." 

The  dying  man  looked  at  me  gently  and 
beckoned  me  nearer. 

'What  is  your  name?"  he  asked. 

I   told   him. 

"  Ah,  I  will  not  forget  you.  You  go  now?  It 
is  sad." 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,  I  must  go.  There  is  much  to 
do  for  many  are  sick.  Good-night,  Monsieur, 
good-bye."  I  shook  hands  gently  with  the  man, 
and  hurried  to  the  other  side  of  the  room  where 
the  schooner  captain  lay  dying. 

"  Good-evening,  captain!  Not  so  well  tonight, 
eh?" 

The  captain  shook  his  head.  And  he  knew, 
as  I  knew,  that  he  was  near  his  end.  That  grey 
look  which  is  seldom  mistakable  had  crept  over 
his  face.  He  could  hardly  breathe.  Poor  old 
chap,  he  had  arrived  in  Papeete  a  week  before 

251 


252  TAHITI  DAYS 

with  a  fine  cargo  of  pearl  shell.  The  passage  had 
been  stormy,  for  the  hurricane  season  was  ap- 
proaching, but  he  had  managed  to  make  port  all 
right. 

We  said  a  prayer  together.  Religion  has  not 
played  an  important  part  in  my  life  during  the 
past  few  years;  but  that  prayer  had  to  be  said. 
And  the  captain  in  whose  life  religion  had  also 
not  played  an  important  part,  yet  struggled  to 
say  the  prayer.  Word  by  word  came  out.  His 
eyes  were  fixed  on  me. 

"  Get  on  quickly;  all  seems  slipping  away  from 
me;  there  is  little  time,"  his  great  eyes,  filled  with 
fear,  seemed  to  say. 

We  finished  the  prayer.    Then  there  was  peace. 

'  Will  you  send  Jim  Smith  to  me,  please? "  he 
said.  We  shook  hands.  The  captain  was  game. 
He  was  going  to  face  death  with  a  fine  courage. 
"  Send  Jim  Smith  to  me,"  he  said 

The  captain  was  dying;  he  knew  it;  therefore  he 
had  the  right  to  make  any  request.  The  wishes 
of  the  dying  are  always  attended  to. 

'  Yes,  Captain,"  I  replied,  "  I'll  try  and  get  Jim 
Smith  for  you." 

But  Jim  Smith  and  all  his  family  had  been 
dead  for  days.  On  Tahiti  it  was  no  longer  pos- 
sible to  regard  one's  death  as  important. 

I  looked  round  the  room,  saw  that  the  light  in 
the  lamp  would  outlive  the  spark  of  life  in  my 
patients'  bodies,  waved  good-bye  to  the  two  men 


THE  EPIDEMIC  253 

whose  eyes  were  fixed  on  me  with  much  yearning, 
closed  the  door  gently,  and  passed  out  into  the 
singing  tropical  night. 

A  great  full  moon  seemed  to  be  rushing  across 
the  sky;  the  air  was  filled  with  the  scent  of  flam- 
boyant blossoms  and  gardenia,  tiare  Tahiti;  na- 
ture seemed  to  be  singing  a  Te  Deum  to  her 
Creator;  and  I  leant  against  the  house  and  wept, 
thinking  of  the  two  men  who  were  soon  to  die 
alone. 

As  the  flamboyant  blossoms  were  living  and  lov- 
ing life,  as  the  gardenias  were  filling  the  air  with 
scent,  so  these  men  in  their  day  had  lived  and 
loved.  But  the  blood  red  of  the  flamboyant  blos- 
soms would  become  brown;  soon  they  would  fall 
and  be  trampled  under  foot;  the  gardenia  also 
would  wither.  Back  to  mother  earth.  We  all 
go  back  to  mother  earth.  That  is  the  only  verity. 

Knowing  that  these  two  men  should  die  that 
night,  I  had  carried  them  from  the  main  ward  to 
the  "  room  of  the  gateway."  Here  it  was  quiet 
and  peaceful,  and  their  last  moments  would  not 
disturb  the  other  patients.  A  clean  island  mat 
covered  the  floor,  the  walls  were  newly  white- 
washed, lace  curtains  draped  the  windows,  flowers 
were  everywhere.  My  helpers  smiled  at  the  idea 
of  making  this  little  room  lovely;  the  flowers 
amused  them. 

'  But,"  you  are  saying,  "  this  is  not  a  magic 
carpet;  we're  riding  in  a  hearse.     Let's  get  back 


254  TAHITI  DAYS 

to  the  reef;  give  us  cocoanuts  to  drink;  bring 
some  more  oranges." 

That  is  precisely  what  we  all  felt  on  Tahiti 
when  the  epidemic  became  a  reality.  We  went 
to  get  our  laundry,  for  the  laundress  had  not 
come  to  the  house,  and  we  found  her  very  ill  with 
all  her  family.  Our  Chinese  servants  not  appear- 
ing, we  went  to  the  market  ourselves,  but  only  a 
few  Chinamen  were  there.  There  was  nothing  to 
be  bought  but  potatoes  and  vegetables  and  per- 
haps a  few  eggs.  The  butcher  was  ill;  there  were 
no  policemen;  the  little  town  of  Papeete  became 
dead. 

"  But  soon  it  will  be  all  right,"  we  thought. 
Then  Lavina  died  and  we  were  greatly  trou- 
bled. 

"Why  did  the  French  allow  the  S.  S.  Navua 
from  influenza-stricken  San  Francisco  to  berth?" 
we  said.  '  Why  didn't  we  think  that  she  was  prob- 
ably a  pest  ship  ?  We  would  not  then  have  invited 
the  officers  and  captain  to  our  peace  celebrations, 
where  the  atmosphere  was  close,  and  where  germs 
could  be  communicated." 

Lavina  was  dead.  We  followed  her  hearse  to 
the  cemetery,  and  some  of  us  came  home  to  die. 

Around  the  one  drug  store  a  large  crowd  had 
gathered,  while  several  volunteers  helped  the  drug- 
gist to  make  capsules. 

Then  the  deaths  commenced.  The  two  hearses 
and  two  undertakers  could  not  cope  with  the 


THE  EPIDEMIC  255 

work.  The  dead  were  buried  in  boxes.  Soon  it 
was  impossible  to  make  the  boxes  in  time. 

We  held  a  meeting,  ten  of  us,  to  combat  the 
disease  that  was  killing  fifty  people  a  day. 

We  fought  the  battle  and  were  beaten.  The 
disease  simply  ran  through  the  population  in  the 
most  casual  manner;  nothing  could  stop  it.  It 
worked  quietly  amongst  the  palm  trees,  in  the 
huts  of  the  peasants,  in  the  large  fares  of  the 
chiefs;  it  spared  no  one.  Money  meant  nothing; 
the  possession  of  a  large  number  of  servants  merely 
added  more  trouble,  for  they  simply  lay  down  in 
the  kitchen  and  died — all  of  them.  And  you,  in 
the  best  bedroom,  could  call  and  call  in  vain,  until 
the  fear  of  death  came  upon  you.  You  struggled 
up  and  walked  out  to  the  kitchen.  Here  three 
people  lay  dead  across  the  once  spotless  floor. 
What  could  you  do?  You  lay  on  your  bed,  and 
thought  until  a  great  fear  came  upon  you.  You 
struggled  to  retain  consciousness,  but  in  vain,  and 
in  a  few  hours  you  were  mad  and  raving  like  the 
rest  of  them.  A  few  days  afterwards  they  burnt 
you  and  your  house. 

It  was  hopeless.  I  had  been  given  a  certain  dis- 
trict to  nurse,  containing  roughly  500  patients. 
I  would  enter  a  large  room  where  ten  people 
were  ill.  I  would  give  each  of  them  a  small  bottle 
of  medicine  and  much  advice.  "  If  you  remain  in 
bed,  keeping  yourself  warm  and  taking  the  medi- 
cine regularly,  in  a  few  days  you  will  be  well,"  I 


256  TAHITI  DAYS 

would  say.  "If  you  get  up  and  bathe  in  the 
stream  while  you  have  fever  you  will  certainly  die. 
If  you  ask  the  children  to  pour  cold  water  over 
your  head  while  your  hair  is  hanging  out  the  win- 
dow, you  will  certainly  die."  They  all  promised  to 
do  what  I  said  and  the  next  day  I  would  find 
them  bathing  and  doing  all  the  things  they  had 
been  urged  not  to  do.  Hence,  to  do  any  effective 
nursing  was  out  of  the  question.  Two  thousand 
people  in  Papeete  were  going  to  die.  That  seemed 
certain. 

Three  large  motor  lorries  were  being  used  as 
death  carts.  These,  driven  by  roaring  drunk  sea- 
men, dashed  along  the  street  with  legs  and  heads 
of  hair  hanging  over  the  sides. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  epidemic  we  had  thought 
of  opening  the  cinema  halls  and  forming  rough 
hospitals.  But  this  idea  wras  abandoned  because 
it  was  alleged  that  the  native  hated  hospitals. 
This  was  the  reasoned  judgment  of  those  who 
knew  the  country.  How  wrong  they  were!  What 
a  tremendous  block  reasoned  judgment  always  is 
when  something  quick  and  effective  must  be  done! 

But  when  the  full  horror  of  the  pest  was  upon 
us,  nobody  cared  what  anyone  did,  and  with  sev- 
eral friends  I  opened  a  hospital  with  the  object 
of  saving  fifty  lives  out  of  the  two  thousand  that 
must  die  in  Papeete.  Fifty  lives!  It  seemed 
absurd. 

The     French     governor,     the     once     charming 


THE  EPIDEMIC  257 

French  gentleman,  had  become  ill  and  weak.  He 
agreed  to  anything,  and  I  was  given  supreme  com- 
mand of  some  empty  barracks. 

Here  we  found  plenty  of  beds  and  blankets, 
and  with  the  financial  aid  of  the  American  we 
started  work. 

The  hospital  filled  up  at  once.  There  were 
many  difficulties,  not  the  least  being  the  opposition 
of  sundry  white  men  who  gave  advice.  The  idea 
was  to  take  only  those  in  the  preliminary  stages  of 
the  disease  so  that  lives  might  be  saved.  To  take 
poor  dying  souls  shrieking  and  yelling,  and  to 
place  them  in  the  ward  with  those  who  were  re- 
covering, seemed  polite  murder.  My  helpers  saw 
that,  and  were  loyal.  No  one  else  did. 

'  Will  you  take  Tina,  my  vahine? "  a  white 
man  would  say.  "  She's  very  bad,  and  there's  no 
one  to  feed  her."  One  of  us  would  promptly  visit 
Tina.  If  she  were  just  commencing  the  disease, 
or  had  not  gone  too  far,  we  would  take  her;  if  she 
were  dying;  we  had  to  refuse.  Then  the  white 
man  would  storm,  and  after  hurling  insulting 
language  at  us,  he  would  go  off  and  talk  about  our 
heartlessness. 

He  did  not  understand.  At  the  hospital  three 
men  nursed  by  day,  and  two  at  night.  There1 
were  twenty-five  women  patients  and  about 
twenty-five  men.  None  of  them  were  allowed  to 
leave  their  beds.  The  women,  of  course,  presented 
the  greatest  difficulty.  Our  deaths  averaged  three 


258  TAHITI  DAYS 

per  day,  for,  of  course,  it  was  impossible  to  turn 
any  one  away.  The  corpses  had  to  be  looked  after. 

There  was  no  effective  drainage  at  the  hospital. 

Still  we  fought,  and  if  you  entered  the  hospital 
you  found  fifty  or  so  cheery  people.  We  made 
them  laugh,  and  this  was  only  possible  by  remov- 
ing the  dying  to  a  small  room. 

Finally  one  girl  recovered  and  she  was  told 
that  she  must  go  home  for  her  bed  was  needed. 
She  said  she  was  dreadfully  ill.  She  was  not;  she 
wanted  to  stay.  But  we  refused  to  permit  this, 
so  she  went  to  the  store,  and  buying  a  large  piece 
of  soft  muslin,  she  bound  this  round  her  head,  and, 
having  cut  out  a  large  red  cross  from  a  piece  of 
red  cotton,  she  returned  and  became  a  Red  Cross 
nurse.  I  sent  her  into  the  town  and  her  appear- 
ance was  so  attractive  that  she  brought  back  with 
her  six  others.  And  so  my  female  nursing  staff 
commenced. 

These  six  girls  were  the  wickedest  young  women 
of  Papeete,  it  was  alleged,  but  to  us  they  were 
angels  of  mercy. 

They  flirted  with  the  patients,  they  flirted  with 
the  male  helpers,  but  they  were  very  gentle  and 
kind,  and  saved  the  lives  of  many. 

After  a  time  the  epidemic  showed  signs  of 
breaking,  the  hospital  was  working  excellently, 
my  temper  had  become  a  menace  to  its  smooth 
working,  so  I  decided  to  return  to  England  at 
the  first  opportunity. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE  SALVOR 

THERE'S  no  comfort  in  tramp  ships — nothing  but 
smells,  salt  water,  canned  tongues,  arguments,  and 
a  contempt  for  those  land  lubbers  who  some- 
times sign  on  as  second  stewards,  giving  the  cap- 
tain five  dollars  a  day,  and  at  the  end  of  the  voy- 
age swearing  that  they  will  never  do  it  again. 

I  left  Tahiti  in  a  tramp  ship.  This  had  not 
been  my  intention,  but  the  captain  of  the  Moana, 
who  put  into  Papeete  towards  the  end  of  the  epi- 
demic, refused  to  take  me,  fearing  germs.  His 
refusal,  annoying  at  the  time,  can  now  be  regarded 
as  admirable. 

Turning  away  from  the  Moana  in  a  low  condi- 
tion, I  was  greeted  by  an  individual  in  a  soft  felt 
hat  whom  I  recognized  as  the  captain  of  a  small 
tramp  ship  which  had  been  kept  at  Papeete  during 
the  epidemic. 

"What's  the  matter,  old  top"  said  he.  "If 
that  guy  won't  take  you,  I  will.  I  sail  tomorrow; 
you  can  have  the  owner's  cabin;  it's  got  a  brass 
bedstead  in  it." 

I  thanked  him,  and  gladly  accepted  his  offer. 
His  ship,  the  Salvor,  leant  heavily  against  the 

2S9 


260  TAHITI  DAYS 

wharf.  She  had  tall  rakish  masts  and  a  funny 
little  funnel  popping  out  of  a  veranda-like  bridge. 
Fifty  years  old,  built  before  the  days  of  steel 
ships,  her  history  was  romantic  and  interest- 
ing. She  had  formed  part  of  the  brave  procession 
of  ships  that  passed  through  the  Suez  Canal  at  its 
opening,  and  at  one  point  in  her  history,  she  had 
borne  the  body  of  David  Livingstone  home  from 
Africa.  Her  more  recent  history  had  been  equally 
romantic,  since  she  had  spent  many  years  salvaging 
wrecked  ships  off  the  British  Columbian  coast,  and 
keeping  for  her  own  personal  adornment  any  fit- 
tings that  took  her  fancy.  Her  cabins  were  filled 
with  ornate  mirrors,  and  handsome  wash-stands, 
which  looked  well  enough  so  long  as  you  didn't 
try  to  wash  in  them.  If  you  removed  the  plug 
from  the  basin  the  water  flowed  over  the 
deck. 

From  the  dock  she  suggested  a  very  old  maid 
disguised  as  a  debutante.  I  never  want  to  see  her 
again — except  from  a  dock. 

We  left  Tahiti  the  following  evening  at  sunset, 
commencing  a  peculiar  voyage. 

The  first  day,  out,  the  chief  mate  and  the  chief 
engineer  had  "  words,"  culminating  in  some  vio- 
lence, which  caused  the  chief  engineer  to  retire  to 
his  cabin  expecting  death  any  minute,  but  it  didn't 
come.  They  had  quarrelled  about  coaling.  This 
is  not  an  unusual  occurrence  on  small  steamers, 
for  a  nice  co-ordination  is  difficult  to  attain  when 


THE  SALVOR  261 

the  deck  hands  join  the  engine-room  staff  in  com- 
mon labour. 

It  was  absurd  of  the  chief  engineer  to  expect 
death  from  a  mere  crack  over  the  head  with  a 
handspike.  As  he  told  me  himself,  he  was  a  very 
lucky  man.  He  had  been  wrecked  ten  times  and 
burnt  at  sea  thrice.  Men  had  died  around  him  by 
the  dozen,  but  he  had  always  come  out  safe  and 
sound.  Before  the  voyage  ended  we  looked  upon 
him  with  some  suspicion.  He  was  a  thin,  red- 
haired  Glasgow  Scotchman,  with  a  cautious  glint 
in  his  eye. 

No  one  objected  to  his  remaining  in  his  cabin, 
but  unfortunately  his  absence  from  the  engine- 
room  caused  the  remaining  engineers  to  be  over- 
worked, and  the  firemen  got  out  of  hand,  stoking 
badly,  and  never  getting  as  much  steam  on  the 
ship  as  the  amount  of  coal  burnt  warranted.  For 
with  a  stiff  breeze  behind  her,  the  Salvor  flew  over 
the  waves  at  the  rate  of  seven  knots  an  hour;  in 
the  "  variables "  she  either  stood  still  or  went 
backwards,  with  her  nose  in  the  right  direction,  but 
nothing  more. 

The  second  day  out,  one  of  the  mirrors  in  the 
cabin  unshipped  and  crashed  onto  the  deck,  break- 
ing into  atoms.  We  kept  this  from  the  crew. 

Their  superstitious  minds  were  already  over- 
burdened since  the  discovery  of  a  Russian  Finn 
in  the  fo'cs'le.  Some  seamen  will  refuse  to  sail 
with  a  Russian  Finn,  since  he  is  regarded  as  an 


262  TAHITI  DAYS 

unlucky  shipmate.  This  man,  a  tall,  handsome, 
blue-eyed  giant,  had  denied  being  a  Finn,  and  for 
some  days  the  crew  believed  him,  until,  in  a  mo- 
ment of  confidence,  he  had  admitted  that  his  last 
voyage  had  been  spent  flying  from  a  burning  ship 
in  mid-ocean.  This  settled  his  nationality. 

The  third  day  out,  the  chief  engineer  appeared 
in  the  dining-cabin.  He  reminded  one  of  a  gera- 
nium plant  kept  in  a  dark  room.  The  barometer 
had  been  falling  anyway,  but  while  Girtie,  the 
cabin  boy,  served  us  with  our  portions  of  pink 
canned  tongues  and  mashed  potatoes,  the  old  ship 
become  convulsive.  Having  no  "  fiddles,"  those 
arrangements  which  make  the  heart  of  a  land  lub- 
ber sink  when  the  stewards  attach  them  to  the 
tables,  eating  on  the  Salvor,  during  a  heavy  sea, 
required  training  and  experience.  One  sighed  for 
the  tentacles  of  an  octopus.  The  chief  engineer 
sat  opposite  me,  clad  in  an  oily  suit  of  overalls. 
While  reaching  up  for  the  mustard  pot,  which  hung 
from  a  hook  above,  my  plate  of  tongues  and  mashed 
potatoes  slid  gaily  across  the  table  towards  the 
lap  of  the  chief.  In  his  efforts  to  repel  my  food, 
he  removed  his  hand  from  his  own  plate,  which 
promptly  slid  onto  his  lap.  Losing  his  head  com- 
pletely, he  found  himself  covered  with  every 
imaginable  form  of  food.  While  apologizing,  I 
placed  the  cruet  on  the  table,  and  this  went 
hurtling  across  the  table,  joining  the  tongues  and 
mashed  potatoes.  The  engineer  was  annoyed,  but 


THE  SALVOE  263 

the  captain,  who  could  always  find  something 
amusing  in  other  people's  troubles,  remarked  that 
the  arrangement  was  excellent.  Girtie,  the  cabin 
boy,  enjoyed  the  captain's  humour,  more  than  any 
one  else.  The  captain  rewarded  him  with  a  smile. 

The  second  engineer  was  efficient  and  uninter- 
esting, but  the  third  was  more  promising.  As  far 
as  one  could  glean,  his  only  reason  for  occupying 
the  position  of  third  engineer  lay  in  the  fact  that 
he  had  driven  a  Ford  car  in  San  Francisco,  and 
had  attained  some  fame  as  a  trick  bicyclist.  He 
used  to  sing  duets  with  the  chief  steward,  just  out- 
side my  cabin  window.  The  fiercest  gale  would 
not  stop  him.  I  used  to  play  bridge  with  the 
third  engineer,  the  Marconi  man  and  the  chief 
steward.  It  was  an  unusual  form  of  bridge,  since 
any  man  discovering  that  neither  he  nor  his  partner 
had  been  vouchsafed  an  average  hand,  promptly 
suggested  a  fresh  deal.  It  was  a  nice  "  brotherly 
love  "  sort  of  bridge,  but  not  exciting.  But  if  you 
didn't  play,  the  third  would  sing — loudly;  at 
bridge  he  merely  hummed. 

The  third  day  out  a  storm  of  some  violence  de- 
veloped, and  the  Salvor  displayed  much  vivacity. 
She  used  to  rise  on  a  sea,  and  then  with  a  shudder 
and  a  crash  she  would  land  on  the  next,  sub- 
merging her  old  bows  and  allowing  the  wave  to 
roll  over  her  decks.  At  this  time  I  took  refuge 
on  the  brass  bedstead — not  seasickness,  but  a  de- 
sire to  ignore  the  raging  water  around.  But  it 


i>64  TAHITI  DAYS 

found  me  out  all  right,  for  with  a  sickly  stare 
I  used  to  watch  shoes,  articles  of  clothing, 
and  chunks  of  manuscript  floating  about  the 
cabin. 

When  the  storm  passed,  we  descended  the  for- 
'ard  hold  to  examine  the  cargo.  The  mate  carried 
a  naked  candle  in  his  hand.  '  Weak  between  wind 
and  water,"  he  murmured,  as  the  wind  passed 
through  the  bow  plates  and  blew  the  candle  out; 
"  but  it  will  be  all  right,  so  long  as  we  don't  get 
another  storm." 

With  a  lucky  chief  engineer,  a  Russian  Finn, 
and  a  broken  mirror  on  board,  how  could  we  avoid 
another  storm!  It  lasted  two  days,  after  which 
we  came  into  more  gentle  water  four  days  off 
the  Xew  Zealand  coast.  But  our  troubles  were 
not  yet  over,  for  according  to  the  captain's  reckon- 
ing, the  amount  of  coal  in  our  bunkers  would  not 
last  us  to  Wellington.  This  was  bad  enough,  but 
when  the  Marconi  man  reported  that  his  wireless 
outfit  refused  to  function,  a  few  months'  tossing 
about  the  lonely  Pacific  Ocean  in  the  Salvor 
seemed  possible. 

The  Marconi  man  did  what  he  could.  This 
consisted  in  rising  at  ten,  and  after  breakfast 
entering  the  wireless  room  from  which  would  im- 
mediately come  forth  long  drawn  out  buzzings  and 

bad  language.  "  Bu z — Bu—  — z — the  set's 

rotten — damn  rotten,"  we  would  hear.  Then  the 
Marconi  man,  a  tall,  pale-faced,  pale-haired,  and 


THE  SALVOR  265 

pale-eyed  youth,  would  join  us  in  the  cabin.  Here 
he  would  fling  a  few  epithets  at  Girtie,  the  cabin 
boy;  after  this  he  would  go  to  sleep. 

In  spite  of  all  our  troubles,  we  at  last  sighted 
the  New  Zealand  coast.  It  looked  very  pleasing 
to  our  eyes.  Hugging  the  land  from  Gisborne 
down  to  Wellington,  the  old  ship  cleverly  avoided 
the  rocks  and  shoals  in  her  course,  and  finally,  with 
three  tons  of  coal  in  our  bunkers,  we  staggered 
around  Cape  Palliser,  just  avoiding  a  "  southerly 
buster,"  against  which  the  Salvor  would  have  been 
powerless. 

Our  ship  may  have  been  small  and  insignificant, 
but  we  determined  to  show  the  signal  man  at  Well- 
ington that  our  knowledge  of  modern  signalling 
was  vast.  We  draped  ourselves  with  flags,  telling, 
in  cheerful  colour,  that  we  commanded  the  ship 
Salvor,  that  we  desired  both  a  pilot  and  a  doctor, 
and  that  we  carried  His  Majesty's  mail.  A  few 
other  particulars  were  also  given. 

The  signalman  at  Wellington  read  that  our 
engine  had  broken  down,  that  we  were  in  no  hurry 
to  enter  port,  and  that  the  doctor  could  take  his 
time.  The  pilot,  eating  ham  and  eggs  in  his  home 
in  Wellington,  received  the  message,  finished  his 
ham  and  eggs,  read  the  paper,  and  strolled  leisurely 
down  to  the  dock.  He  joined  us  in  a  large  fun- 
nelled tug,  just  as  we  were  preparing  to  anchor 
with  child-like  faith  close  beside  a  huge  cargo  ship. 
The  pilot  pointed  out  that  this  ship  was  sitting  on  a 


266  TAHITI  DAYS 

rock,  having  been  driven  there  by  a  stiff  breeze 
Our  course  was  altered  quickly ! 

After  passing  through  the  usual  inspection,  we 
at  last  docked.  A  large  crowd  had  gathered  on 
the  pier,  and  three  newspaper  reporters  came  on 
hoard  desiring  stories,  and  although  we  filled  them 
up  with  information,  we  searched  in  vain  for  the 
result  of  their  efforts  in  the  newspapers. 

And  now  our  journey  is  ended;  I  must  bid  you 
good-bye.  If,  perchance,  you  have  enjoyed  your 
voyage  on  my  carpet,  and  a  happy  fate  takes 
you  to  Tahiti,  I  will  be  greatly  honoured  if  you 
will  claim  my  friendship.  It  isn't  much  value  any- 
where else,  but  if  you  will  stroll  out  to  Taunoa, 
when  the  heat  of  the  day  has  passed,  you  may 
find  it  useful,  for  Te-te — you  simply  can't  miss 
her — will  make  much  of  you  and  will  certainly 
send  Marco  running  up  the  nearest  cocoanut  tree 
to  get  you  poppihari  to  drink. 

And  before  returning  to  Papeeta,  walk  out  onto 
the  point  and  watch  the  sunset.  And  before  the 
sun  drops  behind  Moorea,  while  he  is  painting 
the  lagoon  every  imaginable  colour,  call  up  the 
spirits  of  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  and  Melville,  and 
they  will  tell  you,  as  I  tell  you,  that  the  fairyland  of 
the  South  Seas,  as  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,  is 
likened  unto  a  little  child. 

THE   END 


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UCLA-College  Library 

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A   ••_•••  '"•"•  i ii  ii i  ii 
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